The Coming Evil
by lunartick
Summary: Suddenly, there are many gruesome deaths in the area, deaths that leave few clues for Saitou and Kenshin to work on. Then the reappearance of Soujirou reveals an evil that could destroy the whole of Japan once and for all.
1. Death on the outskirts

Hello people, this is my new Rurouni Kenshin story. Ha ha… I've got the writer's block for Are you Sure About This, so this is my new story! Right now, it is mainly Saitou and the Kenshingumi that appear, but eventually, almost everyone will make an appearance, so hang on tight if you are reading to find your favourite character!

This is rated M because of **gore** primarily. There will be **no limes or lemons**, and **no yaoi**.

So anyway, do read and review people!

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**Death along the outskirts **

The farmer rode cautiously down the road, urging his horse into a trot. The cart he was sitting on rumbled dangerously, but stayed intact. It has been a decade since the unrest of the Tokugawa era, but the roads at night were still dangerous. It hadn't been his choice to stay out so late into the night, but the trading had gone on for too long, and he hadn't been comfortable resting in the place of his trader. Thus, here he was, desperately trying to reach home at the fastest of all paces, without causing his horse to go crippled along the rough and bumpy road.

It was by far the dumbest thing he had ever done. Strange things have been happening in the wild lately, strange events that no one could explain. Word has spread around that some sort of evil had arrived, though what, no one could tell. None have lived to recount it.

Suddenly, the farmer froze, his hands still holding on to the reigns of the horse. For a moment there, he thought he had heard a very soft noise… like a sigh. But there was nobody around in the deserted road. Dark as it may be, he was still sure of that.

Yet, he could not shake the feeling that there was someone watching him.

Feeling quite foolish, he called out, "Is there anybody there? This is just a farmer returning home with no spoils! Please do not attack me, I mean no harm."

He was greeted by silence, which made him both relieved yet apprehensive.

"There is nothing I can give you," he tried.

Suddenly, the horse neighed. It wasn't a calm call, it was a whinny of fear. Without warning, it bolted, sending the farmer flying from the cart. Yelling in pain and cursing, the farmer landed on the road, winded and bruised.

"Stupid animal!" he snarled, more out of fear than anger, "Get back here now!" The only sound he could hear was the horse making its way down the mud road rapidly.

Groaning, he climbed to his feet, feeling vulnerable and exposed. Shaking his head, he started on the long walk home, more desperate than ever to reach the warm recesses of his house.

Then he heard it again.

Frozen in terror he strained his ears, trying to catch the elusive noise again. But there was only silence.

"Who is it?" he screeched in a voice he did not recognise. "There is no good in harming me! I have no money on me. There is nothing I can give you?" Again, there was silence.

Then he heard another noise. An odd scratching, tapping sound, much like the noise of a beetle in flight, hitting itself against the wall.

"Who is it?" he screamed. "There is nothing I can give you!"

"But there is."

He screamed, arms flailing in terror as he ran, fleeing as fast as he could, the feel of warm, moist breath still on his ear. But it was so dark, so dark he could not see a thing. His eyes could have been closed for all he knew. Where were the lights from the village fires? Where were the noises of livestock and people milling around?

Then he heard the sound of leaves rustling and he gave another wail of terror. He couldn't tell if the sound had come from his right or his left… or behind him. Disorientated, he ran, unaware he had left the mud road until he fell into a large pool of water.

Some part of his mind told him that he had ended up in the rice fields, but all he could do was sit there and stare into blackness.

Then the scratching sound came again. This time, to his right.

"No…" he moaned, unable to move. Against his skin, he felt the ripples of water as something approached him. "Kami-sama… no…"

He couldn't see a thing, but he could _feel_ the presence standing above him. There was another soft sigh and he moaned in terror. Then there was a different sound, and this, he could identify.

It was the sound of flesh being ripped open.

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A very calm Saitou Hajime stood stoically inside the ring of horrified passer-bys, gazing down at the still figure on the ground covered in a white sheet – or at least what used to be a white sheet.

Now it was a blood red.

"What was all that about?" he asked, a dozen policemen snapped to attention fearfully.

"Dead man, sir," one of them replied, "He was found by the neighbours at around dawn. The man… eh… was…" Words seemed to fail the young man as he stared helplessly at his comrades.

"Let me see." Saitou strode forward and lifted the sheet.

There was a long silence as everyone's attention focused on him. Then he grunted and dropped the sheet.

"Sir?"

"Makes me wonder how you even identified it as human."

"Eh… they found a… foot, sir."

Saitou grunted again and frowned into the distance. "Ok," he murmured, "get the body out of sight then go do something useful."

"Yes sir!" The policemen set about their work with a new energy.

Turning around, Saitou strode off slowly, chewing on his cigarette meditatively. He hadn't seen a body in that shape in a very long time. In fact, he had never seen a body look like that before in his entire life. It made him wonder. As far as he knew, the only people within the territory with sufficient skill to carry out such a brutal murder were Himura Battousai and himself.

That wasn't much help. He knew he didn't do it, and he was almost absolutely certain Battousai hadn't done it. The… murder was too messy, and Battousai was too busy playing daddy to be going around killing people.

Nevertheless, this merited a talk with the man. The slashing had been unique, and perhaps he could shed some light onto it.

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The happy sounds of the Kamiya dojo reached his ears even before he could see the building itself. This happy sounds, or "oro-sounds" as he had taken to calling it comprised mainly of oros by a certain ex-hitokiri, the sound of someone being whacked, the sound of someone whacking someone, screams, yells, curses, and the latest addition, crying.

Pausing at the door to relight a cigarette, he stood and brooded for a while before cautiously pushing the door open with his sheathed sword. His caution paid off when he narrowly escaped being hit in the head by a flying chair.

"Kami-sama!" someone yelped, "I'm so sorry… oh, it's you." He looked up from the smashed furniture and eyed the woman storming towards him. Time had matured up the frame, but the same childish flame still burned in her blue eyes.

"Good afternoon, Himura-donou," he greeted, in a deliberate parody of her husband's manners, "May I have the great, great honour of meeting the legendary Battousai himself?" He smirked and added, "In case you do not know who I refer to, it is the one who does all the housework and say 'oro' to every single damned question posed to him."

"Battousai doesn't live here," she shot back, glaring at him, "But Kenshin Himura does, and you may speak to him."

"Why, I am so honoured," he sneered back, brushing past her and heading towards the sounds of "oro" and "Kaoru-donou, who is it?".

Rounding the dojo, he came upon the now painfully familiar sight of his nemesis squatting knee deep in water and laundry, a baby riding in a carrier behind him.

"Oh, it's you," was the welcome.

"Yes, you are very welcomed," Saitou replied mockingly and was somewhat pleased to see a flicker of amber amongst the amethyst, but that vanished a little too quickly.

"What is it, Saitou?" Kenshin finally relented, standing up and wiping his hands on his hakama.

"I feel so welcomed," Saitou murmured, "I have come here for your expert opinion on murdering people, Battousai." Again there was the flash of amber which lasted longer this time. Saitou was amused; he could spend the whole day baiting him, but he needed information more than he needed violence now.

"I do not see why you should be so interested in my opinion when you obviously have a better and more up to date opinion on murder," Himura shot back.

Blowing out a breath full of smoke, Saitou decided to relent. "I did not come here to fight with you, Battousai," he said, toning his voice down, "There has been a very brutal murder in the outskirts of Tokyo, and when I say brutal, I mean brutal, that coming from a man who lived through the Revolution. It is the only one so far, but it may not remain so for long." He could have continued, but he stopped, knowing that his point was made. Battousai would not turn him down.

"We can talk in the house," Kenshin said, passing the baby to his wife who was already looking very worried, "Kaoru, could you please get some tea for us?"

"Ok." Her worried gaze passed between the two men then she hurried off.

Saitou followed Kenshin as he led them into the living room, stepping derisively around the unconscious boy on the floor of the dojo.

"Is your wife training her pupil or trying to end his life?"

"I have asked myself that question often enough."

That seemed to dispel a little of the tension and they settled down on the floor in a slightly more cordial mood.

"What is it then?" Kenshin questioned.

"There was a body found in the outskirts," Saitou began, "a farmer, apparently, and to make a long story short, I couldn't tell it was human when I first saw it."

Kenshin raised his eyebrow at that.

"It was nothing more than a pile of flesh, Battousai, and when I say flesh, I mean flesh. Admittedly, it was a rather large pile of flesh. There was no bone, no… inerts… only meat. The only object that could be identified as human was a foot that the villagers had found. It was not with the… remains, but a way off, almost half-way across the village."

His nemesis's face had not changed, but there was now a slight bluish tinge to it. "Is it possible the… remains aren't human?"

"Our policemen found a tattoo, which the family of the missing farmer identified as belonging to him." That seemed to end any doubts.

"I don't know how I am supposed to help you with this," Kenshin said, looking highly disturbed.

Saitou leaned forward slightly. "Battousai, I looked at the remains, and I am convinced that it was the work of one person alone. Yet, what technique does something like this to the victim? My coroner says the flesh was probably hacked off when the person attacked the victim in the dark, but the chunks were enormous. I do not think it was accidental. It is almost like…" He stopped abruptly and smoked quietly, waiting for Battousai to finish his thoughts.

"It is almost like," Kenshin murmured, taking up the challenge, "the murderer took what he needed and left what he didn't need behind."

"Yes."

Kenshin's mind reeled. "You… think he was… eaten?"

"Possibly, but if that was the case, why was the majority of flesh left behind?"

"Perhaps…" Kenshin stared miserably into the distance.

For a brief instance, Saitou felt an uncharacteristic jolt of sympathy for the man. This was a man did not want his peaceful, happy life to be interrupted by this grisly murder, a sentiment Saitou had once shared with him when he had first gotten married to his lovely Tokio. "Let us talk about the technique," he said, changing the subject immediately, "do you know a technique that takes the flesh off the bones in just one slash?"

"No…" Kenshin stared at the floor, "Usually techniques involve aiming for major organs, not for taking off chunks like that. Yet… by the amount of flesh you say was left behind, it does not sound like random hacking."

"Yes."

There was a call from outside the door and they both fell silent as Kaoru entered with tea and cake. Kenshin gulped. Suddenly food didn't seem like such a good idea after all.

They were silent as she arranged the tea in front of them, and that seemed to disturb her for she kept glancing at Kenshin, trying to read his face. He kept it as impassive as possible. When she left, she was even more worried than when Saitou had appeared.

The moment the door was closed, Kenshin looked Saitou in the eye. "What do you intend to do about this one?"

"Find the murderer and kill him."

"That's not what I asked."

"I know, but other than that, I have no clue as to who the murderer is."

"It is probably someone from a different city."

"That sure narrows it down a lot, Battousai."

"I…" Kenshin clenched and unclenched his fist experimentally. "I have not lost all my skills, Saitou, and should you need my help… you can ask me."

Saitou smirked, but for once, his smirk seemed less condescending. "If it should come to that."

Without a word, they ended the meeting, and Saitou left as quietly as he came. The trip had assured nothing other than assistance, should it be required. That wasn't much. There was still work to be done, people to be chased, evidence to be collected.

And that was when a flustered policeman ran up to him and informed him of a second body.

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This time, Battousai had come along with him. The offer had surprised him, but he was somewhat glad that his nemesis's desire to protect his country had not vanished completely with the growth of his family. Of course, his wife had made a big fuss about it, but that had ended rather rapidly with a kiss and a charming smile.

Thus, the two of them stood a distance from the white sheet, staring stoically at the rapidly spreading red stain.

"That was awful."

"Less flesh left behind than in the previous one, though not significantly."

"Same slash marks?"

"Exactly."

The both of them stood still, Saitou smoking and Kenshin thinking hard.

"Were there any… parts that could be identified as human?" he asked.

With a slight sigh, Saitou lifted up the sheet with his foot and gestured to one piece. "It's all flesh but you can tell it's human."

Kenshin nodded weakly. It looked like all the flesh in the front torso of a man had been removed in one slice… and the nipples were still visible.

"So…" The words died down on his lips.

"There are no new clues here," Saitou murmured, "Other than the fact that it seems to have been done before our first corpse. It stinks more."

Kenshin could not agree further. "Let's get out of here, Saitou," he said, turning his back on the gory scene, "I can't think with that in front of me."

"Neither can I."

The confession surprised him, and the surprise filled him with guilt. He had always thought of Saitou as a cold man, and not one to reveal weakness like this. Yet, this was like nothing they had ever seen before in their entire lives… and Saitou was not an emotionless man, he knew that.

Hoping to cover his surprise, he rubbed his nose. "Which way are you going?"

"Police headquarters."

"I've better head for the dojo," Kenshin went on, "or Kaoru would get worried."

"She already is."

"I know."

There was silence as they continued down the mud road that led to civilisation.

"Saitou, why do you think these murders were carried out in the first place?"

"I wouldn't know."

"Care to speculate?"

"You do the honours."

Kenshin sighed. "I have a few ideas," he confessed, "Such as this could be religious killings. Maybe they needed the bodies for some sort of ritual… or the bodies were killed in some sort of ritual."

"That is a good one," Saitou agreed, smoking rapidly, "I have another theory, though it is not one that I agree with just yet."

"What is it?"

There was a long silence again as Saitou puffed maniacally on his cigarette. Finally, with a sigh, he threw the butt away and replied, "The villagers told my men that there have been a lot of strange things happening in the rural areas lately. At night, bizarre sounds could he heard, sounds that they have never heard before. People who venture out into the night vanish. The livestock would suddenly act up, some even killing themselves by crashing into the ground hard enough to break their spines." Another cigarette was lit up. "They claim that some kind of… evil has arrived, and that is it drawing other kinds of… evil to it."

"Evil?" Kenshin paused and stared at Saitou. "When they say that, do they mean…?"

"Supernatural evil, yes." Saitou exhaled. "Which is one reason why I do not accept this theory. Yet, there may be some truth in what they say. People _have_ gone missing in the night this past two weeks, more than in the whole of last month by almost twofold. There have been many cases of livestock committing suicide. But, perhaps there is a less… superstitious explanation for that."

Kenshin nodded slowly. "Yes. I think that could be worth looking into."

Again there was a brief silence then Saitou sighed and relit another cigarette. "Go back to your wife, Battousai. I do not think that there is nothing more that can be done. Too few clues have been left behind."

"It will not end like this. I do not think these will be the only killings."

"Neither do I, but for now, there is nothing more that can be done, not with the sword that is. I am going back to my beloved spy network."

Kenshin's lips quirked. The normalcy of the statement seemed to throw the murders back into perspective, and bring them down to earth again. "I see. Then I shall do as you say and return to my wife."

"Good, keep out of the way. In terms of skills, you are high on my list of suspects."

Kenshin shot the Wolf of Mibu an indignant look. "I take that was a joke."

"Probably." The smirk vanished. "But if you do hear of any… skilled individuals entering or leaving the area, you've better inform me – for the sake of everybody in Tokyo."

"Will do." At the crossroads, they parted without anymore words. Cordial words would have seemed empty after the years of enmity – not that it would have mattered. Sometimes, the sword speaks more than words, and sometimes… it is the eyes that tell the whole story.

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That night, Kenshin had gathered his family and his closest friends to him and had quietly related to them the events that had happened that day. Kaoru, Yahiko and Tsubame had sat silently opposite him as he explained what he had seen and warned them to be extra careful. They had paled and Tsubame had started to cry, but other than that, they had taken the news better than he had hoped. That night, it was taken that Tsubame would stay the night and return home the next day.

He should have expected it, he realised, but when feeling his wife turn in her bed for the hundredth time that night, he sighed and raised himself on his elbow to look at her.

Kaoru gave him a weak smile. "Am I disturbing you?" she questioned abashedly.

"A little," he admitted, "do you wish to talk about it?"

"I just…" again she attempted to smile. "I just can't get rid of the irresistible urge to go check the locks on all the windows and doors again…"

"You checked it five times before going to bed."

"I know," she replied, giving a short bout of laughter, "that's why I'm not getting up to do it again. I've just got the creeps… and even if I knew that all the locks are safely in place, and that I've got the strongest swordsman in the whole of Japan sleeping beside me… I just don't feel safe."

Without another word, he reached out and hugged her tightly. "I am a fading swordsman, Kaoru," he murmured in her ear, "but to keep you, Kenji, Yahiko, Tsubame… and all our friends safe, I will be the strongest, even if I have to go through hellfire to be so."

Smiling, Kaoru snuggled deeper into his arms and sighed contentedly. Then suddenly, she was out of his arms and on her feet, staring at her door worriedly.

"What is it?" Kenshin asked, startled to find himself grasping at cold emptiness.

"Tsubame," Kaoru said worriedly, "She must be terrified! I totally forgot how afraid she would be sleeping on her own… I've better go check on her… and Yahiko, just in case." Before Kenshin could protest, she was hurrying for the door, stopping just for a while to check the baby then hurrying out of the door. Her fears appeared well-founded when the sounds of sniffling and sobbing floated up to him a few minutes later.

Chuckling to himself, Kenshin settled back down on the futon and stared at the ceiling. Saitou had come to him for the technique used, but what disturbed Kenshin was the motive behind the killing. It was just so… gruesome… and senseless. What was the point in all this? Was it just to instigate fear? If so, then why were the remains left in the rural, deserted areas of Japan and not the great city squares where everyone would see it?

With a soft sigh, Kenshin lifted himself off the futon and stretched. He needed some fresh air; the room was locked in so tight it was starting to become claustrophobic. Pausing to adjust his yukata, he stared at the window in their room and wondered Kaoru's reaction should he open the window. Then with a shrug, he unlocked it and pushed it open. He could lock it again the moment he felt her ki approaching the room.

A hot, wet breeze buffed in from the window and hit his face. It was slightly uncomfortable, but better than the air in the room. He wondered briefly if it had rained that day – he hadn't noticed, but that didn't mean anything. Recently, he had started to think about a lot of things, like the fact that he was slowly by steadily losing his skills. It worried him that he would be unable to stand out for his family should they get into trouble – which was often, given their personalities.

Sighing again, he gazed down of the balcony into the darkness – and gave a start. Shocked into immobility, he stared at the figure below him. It was dark, very dark, but he could still make out the outline of a person wondering past the outer rim of the dojo. It was an outline he was familiar with.

Seta Soujirou.

"W…" His limbs suddenly seemed free of their restraint, and he leapt from the window and bounced over the dojo wall, wincing at the unaccustomed strain on his muscles. His head darting left and right, he looked up and down the street, but there was no one there. The figure was gone.

Confused, Kenshin stood in the dark, straining to locate ki, but felt nothing. He had been certain that he had seen Seta Soujirou walking past the dojo outer wall. It was inconceivable that he would have seen wrongly… or was it? It had been dark, and he had been sleepy and deep in thought. Perhaps, it had been a figment of his imagination.

Still puzzled, Kenshin proceeded to leap over the wall of the dojo again. There was no use investigating further in the dead of night – there was no one on the streets, no ki that he could sense. Whoever it had been that had walked past… if anyone had walked past, was long gone. It was time to return before Kaoru worried. He would inform Saitou the next day. Perhaps, the man would have some new information that could throw things into perspective.

Everything would become clear tomorrow – he was sure of it.


	2. More deaths, more questions

Hello, I am back! Haha… I hope the story isn't too boring… Thanks to my one and only reviewer, DeeKaui for taking the time out to say something nice about my story. (Wriggles happily). Anyway, here is when the mystery deepens and there are still no answers to the murders, so… read on and enjoy anyway, it will take some time for answers to come to the surface!

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**More deaths, more questions**

The sight in the well was something even Saitou had difficulty stomaching. He could only imagine what it did for the villagers who had headed out to the still body of water to collect their daily drinking water.

"When did this happen?" he asked the coroner who was busy puking into the bush.

"I… I don't know," the coroner replied, sounding very weak, "It… I guess around last night. The… the…"

"Shut up." Saitou hadn't meant for it to come out so harshly, but he didn't need the coroner to describe the scene before him. It was the same, really, piles of flesh, only this were in water… and the water had done something horrible to the flesh.

"Saitou." Battousai materialised by his side, an eerily calm look on his face.

"What are you doing here, Battousai? Suddenly interested in the murders?"

"I came to you with information… but your secretary said you were out here." Saitou noted that Kenshin had not attempted to look into the well. He briefly wondered when Battousai had become so intelligent.

"It is the same," he informed, just for the sake of it, "only the water has caused the growth of certain… parasites on it and had sped up the decay process."

"I guessed. It smells worse than the last."

Saitou grunted. "What information did you bring?"

"It might have been a mistake, but last night when I looked out of the window, I thought I saw Seta Soujirou."

The lanky frame froze and tensed up, a cigarette left smothering between the gloved fingers. "How certain are you of this?"

"Not very. I went down to check, but found nothing. But today…" Kenshin glanced at the well. "If what I saw had not been a figment of my imagination, the figure would have been heading in this direction, towards this village."

"Let us assume that you saw something. How sure are you that it was Seta Soujiro?"

"If I hadn't been mistaken then I would be very certain it was Seta Soujirou."

Saitou dropped the cigarette and grinded it out. "I see."

"But that tells us nothing," Kenshin went on, "Even if I really did see him, it does not mean that he committed these crimes."

"It doesn't," Saitou admitted, "but it puts him high, high on my suspect list."

Kenshin sighed. "I guess it does. Do we have the identities of the three victims?"

Saitou raised an eyebrow but graciously pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. "The first victim should be a Jaku Uno, a peasant who grows rice. The second victim is a merchant named Yuu Sae. I believe he isn't even Japanese. The last victim, the one in the well, is a farmer named Kadae Hiyagi. That is the order they were found in, but we have been given to believe that the second victim was killed before the first."

"All farmers but Yuu Sae."

"Yes."

"There is no pattern."

"That's true, other than the fact that all the remains were found in the outskirts of Tokyo, and not the inside."

"How did you identify the victims?"

"Jaku Uno had a tattoo... Yuu Sae was identified by the clothes which were found a distance away. As for Kaedae Hiyagi… this is his own family well, and he hasn't been seen since yesterday morning." 

"How is his family taking it?"

Saitou lit another cigarette immediately. "His daughter was the one who found his remains," he said calmly, "From what I am given to understand, she has gone half insane. The mother, Hiyagi's wife… has taken it better, but as I was given to believe, she has some sort of training in bushido."

Kenshin sighed and turned from the well. "I have said what I wanted to say. Now, I am going home to make sure my family is still safe."

"You do that," Saitou agreed, smoking hard, "And if you see Seta again, I suggest you notify me immediately."

"I suppose I would."

Suddenly, there was a shout and an officer stumbled out of the surrounding trees, yelling. Immediately, the other officers were heading towards him, their shouts of concerns drowning out what the first officer was shouting.

"Shut up!" Saitou roared, startling Kenshin. "What is it?"

"There… there's another body in the woods!" the officer yelped, "but this one is different! It's still… human."

Kenshin and Saitou exchanged looks then headed straight for the trees.

"This way," the officer said, face flushed with excitement and fear, "I was searching the area as ordered, and found the body!"

"Male or female?"

"Male. Young man."

"Recently deceased?" Saitou hurried around a large tree.

"Most recently." The officer agreed, blabbering almost incoherently. "It's cold, but there are little signs of decay."

"I see…" Saitou murmured.

Kenshin supposed he should have expected it, but when he stumbled around the trees and over the roots… and when he caught sight of the body, he gave a start and a yelp of surprise.

It was Seta Soujirou.

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_It was so dark where he was, and blackness swirled around him in a mocking dance. He supposed it should have disturbed him, but it didn't; it was a relief, in fact. What disturbed him was the heat, and the smell of blood. It was everywhere, and he felt like it was driving him crazy. _

_And there was that voice. It was slowly and softly whispering to him in his ear. As he listened, he saw what it described, and he was mildly apprehensive. Yet, it did not disturb him. He was tired, it was time to rest. _

_Then he felt a furious yank on his arm. He groaned, and he heard the voice by his ear give an exclamation of surprise and anger. The base of his neck throbbed painfully. Yet again, there was another pull, and he felt himself being lifted, higher and higher. Then there was light, brilliant, glaring light. _

_He took one look and screamed in despair. _

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"What a mess," Saitou grumbled, sitting in his carriage opposite Kenshin, "the one single clue we had now gone."

Kenshin stared miserably out of the window. "You think he had something to do with the murders after all, don't you?"

"Of course he did," Saitou said, "he was found just a few meters from the dead body. Even if he didn't commit the Hiyagi murder, he most certainly saw what happened."

"That would explain why he is dead."

There was a long silence as they contemplated the near impossible task of killing the Tenken.

"There are no visible wounds on him," Saitou began.

"And no blood at all."

"His sword isn't drawn…"

"Can't be drawn. It seems to be stuck in its sheath."

"There were no signs of combat near the body…"

"His footprints weren't even visible."

"What killed him?"

"I… don't know."

Saitou grumbled something under his breath again. "Please don't tell me that he died of natural causes or something like that."

"I don't think he did. The coroner is examining him in the cart now so we should know by the time we reach your headquarters, wouldn't we?"

"Probably."

There was again another long silence. "You can go home, you know, Battousai? I'm not entirely sure I should be excepting your help."

"I am following you to headquarters not to help, Saitou, I am here because as far as I know, I am the only one who can, and is willing to arrange a decent funeral for Soujirou. I was the one who sent him into the ways of the wanderer, and I am partly responsible for him."

"Always taking the burden of the world onto your own shoulders huh, Battousai?"

Kenshin glared back. "He was so young, Saitou. He hasn't even discovered his truth in life, and now he is dead. I feel the need to do… something for him."

Suddenly, there was a faint cry of fear from the cart traveling behind the carrier. Surprised, Saitou and Kenshin exchanged looks then got the carriage to stop.

Outside, pandemonium reigned, as the coroner stumbled from the cart, screaming undistinguishable words. The soldiers seemed to be running aimlessly, demanding to know what was going on. Throughout the massive confusion, the only thing that seemed certain was that the cause of the uproar was in the cart.

Without a word, both Saitou and Kenshin strode towards the cart and peered in. Immediately, the reason for the chaos was clear when two sapphire orbs stared dazedly back at them.

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The dojo had been closer to where they were than the police headquarters, a certain female doctor had dropped by earlier that day to visit, and thus the dojo was where the carriage and the cart headed straight away. Even so, by the time they reached the dojo, it was already dusk.

The inhabitants of the room were quiet as Megumi worked wordlessly on the dazed young man. There were no words spoken or smiles exchanged, just a quiet observance as they stood around and watched her give Soujirou a once over.

Finally, unable to take the suspense, Yahiko cleared his throat loudly and demanded, "What's up with him? He's awake but he's doing nothing but stare at the ceiling!"

Megumi shot him a look. "I think he is in shock," she replied, gently feeling the base of Soujirou's skull, "There is a rather nasty bump at the base of his neck, which suggests to me that he was hit on the head. But, his pulse and breathing are so shallow I can't even feel them, which suggests to me that he might be suffering from severe blood loss. But there are no open wounds on him, new or old, so I think that he is both anemic and suffering from mal-nutrition." Gently, she placed Soujirou's head back on the pillow, but he continued to stare blurredly up at the ceiling.

"Will he be able to answer any questions?" Saitou asked.

"It's obvious the answer is no," Megumi snapped, "I cannot get a response from him, whether by snapping my fingers in front of his eyes or pinching him. He seems shut off from the world."

"Is he acting or is there a physical reason for this?"

"A possible physical reason is shock, and I don't think he is acting. You can't control your blinking by sheer force of will."

"But he spoke to us just now," Saitou insisted, seeming unwilling to let go of his only clue, "When he woke up, he focused on us and spoke."

_"Why is it so bright?" _

Megumi shrugged impatiently. "You are disturbing his rest, you know?"

Saitou glared and settled back into his position as Kaoru and Kenshin came in carrying trays of tea and porridge.

"Feed him now," Megumi instructed, "little by little though. If it is a lack of food that is screwing up his brain, eating should set him straight faster."

"Kenshin, prop him up," Kaoru requested, "I'll do the feeding."

Wordlessly, Kenshin propped Soujirou up, letting the young man lean limply against him. "He's so cold," Kenshin murmured worriedly.

"I can't explain it for sure," Megumi admitted, "but… he is unnaturally thin alright." She demonstrated her point by pointing to the prominent ribs disapprovingly.

"Then this should help," Kaoru said firmly, expertly spooning up a manageable spoonful of porridge. "Here, Sou-chan," she cooed, her voice falling into baby-talk instinctively, "Have a mouthful of porridge. Mmm… it is so delicious, isn't it?" She held the spoon out and slowly tipped it into Soujirou's mouth, but he didn't swallow, and the porridge dripped out of his mouth.

Kaoru glanced at Megumi helplessly. She was a mother, used to dealing with naughty babies who didn't want to eat. Generally, she should know how to force the food down his throat, but somehow, spanking the Tenken for not eating didn't exactly sound like the way to deal with the situation.

"Try the tea," Megumi suggested.

Doubtfully, Kaoru scooped a little bit of tea into the spoon and touched it gently to Soujirou's lips. For a moment, there was no response – then he sipped the tea up. Before Kaoru could celebrate, he suddenly lunged with a fearsome strength for the teapot.

Screaming as a bit of the boiling tea splashed onto her, Kaoru leapt out of the way as Soujirou raised the sprout of the teapot to his lips and drank the tea rapidly, ignoring the temperature of the tea.

"So, he lives," Saitou remarked, only too soon, for the moment the tea was finished, the teapot dropped from Soujirou's limp hand and he slumped back against Kenshin again.

"What was that all about?" Yahiko demanded, his hand gripping his bokken nervously. "That wasn't caused by shock or anemia or mal-nutrition, was it?"

Megumi stared blankly back at him, seeming frozen in place. "No… I don't know what that was about…"

Kenshin cautiously laid the limp form back onto the bed. "But he feels better after drinking the tea… he's… not that cold already."

"Ok," Megumi said briskly, all professional again, "If that is the case, go get more tea, Kaoru, but keep it lukewarm this time." She touched the red areas around Soujirou's lips gingerly. "We don't want him hurting himself again." As she gently patted the sores with a wet cloth, Soujirou's eyes closed and he seemed to drift away into a deep sleep.

"Yes ma'am," Kaoru said without a hint of sarcasm, and hurried out of the door.

There was a soft grunt then Saitou trailed slowly after Kaoru, scowling to himself.

"Saitou?" Kenshin questioned.

"He is obviously in no form to answer any questions," Saitou answered, "though something about him doesn't strike me as… right." He frowned. "When the doctor says 'aye', I will be back for my answers."

Megumi flipped her hair at him in a gesture of dismissal, and returned back to her patient, still frowning as she tried to figure out exactly what was wrong with him.

In a way, Kenshin could understand what Saitou had meant. It wasn't just the… odd way Soujirou was behaving now. There was something wrong with his scent. His scent was not that of blood… or even warmth – it smelled cold and a little… like sand. And there was the thinness. It was true that in the wild, one might have to go for days without food, but Soujirou had thinned to the level of... a skeleton. Most importantly, the aura was off. In the past, Soujirou had no aura, but now, he had one… only it was not anything they had ever felt before in their entire lives. It felt… eerie.

Sighing, Kenshin got up and headed out to help his wife. The more they dug, the more questions seemed to come up. He wondered if any of these questions would be answered when Soujirou woke.

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In fact, the opportunity for questions to be answered came before dawn. It was still dark, quite close to dawn by Kenshin's reckoning, when Soujirou sat up suddenly, startling him.

"Soujirou?" he asked, cautiously approaching him. In response, Soujirou's arm shot out and grabbed the recently filled teapot. Without pausing, he drained the teapot then dropped it down again. But he did not lie back down as he had done previously.

"Soujirou?" Kenshin touched the young man's shoulder gently, unnerved by the unblinking stare that seemed to be focus beyond the walls of the room. "Soujirou?"

Just as Kenshin was about to give up, the chapped lips moved. Yet, even with his sensitive hearing, all Kenshin could hear was a hoarse whisper.

"Soujirou?"

"Why…"

"Why what, Soujirou?"

Suddenly, Soujirou's head turned sharply, and Kenshin found himself staring into the wide, unblinking stare.

"Why is it so bright?" The voice was dry and whispery, like a dying breeze in a desert.

"Bright?" Kenshin stared at the single, flickering candle in the dark room. "Do you wish me to move the candle, Soujirou?"

Without warning, a soft sigh escaped the parched lips, and the young man slumped weakly against the wall behind his futon. The glare softened into dullness as his head drooped down until Kenshin couldn't see his eyes any longer.

"Soujirou?" Kenshin asked concernedly, wondering if he should go wake Megumi.

The lips moved, but again Kenshin could hardly hear what was being said.

"You will have to speak up, Soujirou. I can't hear you."

"Where is… Shishio-sama?"

Kenshin felt a sudden but expected surge of sympathy clench his heart. "I am afraid he is not here any longer, Soujirou," he said as kindly as possible, gently patting the young man on his shoulder.

"Yumi-san?"

"Soujirou, they are not here. You know that."

"Usui?"

"Sou…"

"Anji? Kamatari? » The wide stare was back as he lifted his head and stared unblinkingly into Kenshin's eyes. "Henya? Iwanbou? Fuji? Chou? Houji?"" He gripped Kenshin's wrist, and Kenshin was startled by the enormous strength in the frail arms. "Where are they?" he whispered.

"They are… not here, Soujirou," Kenshin said helplessly, wincing at the iron grip on his arm.

The grip loosened slowly and the hypnotizing blue orbs slowly closed. "Why… is there still light?" he whispered, "Why wouldn't it be dark?" Then he slumped down in a dead faint.

Kenshin bit back a curse and hurriedly lifted the boy back onto the bed. Swiping up the teapot to refill, he hurried out to fetch Megumi.

It was only when he was halfway down the corridor then did he realize something was oddly wrong with the body he had just pushed back onto the futon.

Soujirou's lithe, muscular frame had returned within the two hours that he had been sleeping.

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	3. The dawn of the living dead

Hello, I am back again! Not much to say now, but I will have some things to say at the end of the chapter.

Right now, my main point is: Rurouni Kenshin does not belong to me, because I don't have the imagination to come up with a red-head hitokiri with a penchant for martyrdom.

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"I can't explain it," Megumi announced, irritably pulling off the handkerchief she used to tie her hair back, "Just hours ago, I could _see_ all his ribs. His waist was smaller than Yahiko's. Now, he has a body sexy enough to beat Kenshin's!" To emphasize her point, she poked at the hard, firm, washboard abs and the well developed chest muscles.

"That isn't natural," Kaoru said apprehensively, "Could it be some kind of ki manipulation that causes that?"

"What ki manipulation?" Yahiko snorted, "That guy's done nothing but sleep and drink the whole of the time he's been here."

"He spoke just now," Kenshin murmured, "He kept asking where Shishio and all his previous comrades were… and he kept asking why it was so bright."

"Bright?" Yahiko snorted again, "I can barely see anything in this room."

"Could he be having some kind of memory relapse?" Kaoru questioned. "Maybe the knock on his head messed up his memory."

"That doesn't explain how his body regenerated all his muscles and flesh back in two hours," Megumi snapped.

"Kenshin?" Kaoru touched her husband's shoulder worriedly. He was frowning in a manner that was slightly disturbing.

"It's nothing," Kenshin replied, smiling assuredly, "I was just worried about Soujirou. He sounds like he isn't far from death."

"Not if I can help it," Megumi retorted, "I haven't lost a patient yet, and he's better not be the first." To emphasize her point, she rapped Soujirou lightly on the forehead. "He has better wake up soon and explain all this nonsense or I'm going to stuff him in a coffin and bury him."

Kenshin smiled wryly as Yahiko snorted slightly with laughter. "Go get some sleep, Kaoru, Yahiko," he said, "I think Megumi and I can handle things from here."

"What sleep?" Yahiko demanded, "The sun's going to be up in no time already."

"Then go do something useful!" Kaoru ordered, suddenly getting hold of her nerves. "The floorboards need scrubbing, and the storeroom needs a cleaning out."

Grumbling, cursing and fighting, teacher and pupil exited the room on the verge of war.

"Kenshin," Megumi said softly, "Why don't you go get some rest. You have been up the most of last night."

"Thank you, Megumi. I shall do as you suggest." With a slight bow, Kenshin left the room – and ran right into Saitou.

"Wh…" Kenshin bit back a curse for the second time in three hours. "What are you doing here?"

"I must speak to that boy now," Saitou said, exhaling a grey puff of smoke.

"Why? His doctor hasn't said 'aye' yet."

"They are all dead, Battousai."

"Who?" Kenshin stared in slight amazement as Saitou's hand shook slightly before he stopped it by clenching his fist.

"The Juppongatana. The rest of that group who survived is all dead."

Kenshin gaped helplessly as Saitou raised his fingers and started ticking them off. "Anji committed suicide by punching his own chest in. Chou was killed in an assignment. Kamatari was found drowned in a koi pond. Henya was shot down by an advanced western gun. Fuji was buried in a landslide. The old man who's name I cannot remember was mauled to death by a pack of stray dogs. There were witnesses to all of those acts. Yet, when the people finally got around to removing the bodies, all they found were piles of flesh on the ground. They are all _dead_, Battousai, and the only one left still alive from that group is the boy in there." Saitou's fingers have all been folded down to one, and he now jabbed it menacingly at the room behind Kenshin.

Shaking his head, Kenshin replied, "Those are all coincidences. They can't possibly have anything to do with Soujirou. Listen to the way they died. Mauled to death by a pack of stray dogs? And Kamatari isn't even in Japan, is he? No one knows where he is – certainly not Soujirou."

"I never said he killed them," Saitou shot back, "but either way, he knows something. You can tell for yourself, Battousai – there is something horribly wrong with that boy and I intend to find out what it is."

"Saitou…"

Suddenly, Saitou blinked, a gesture so disarmingly natural that Kenshin broke off what he was about to say.

"Kenshin." Megumi touched his shoulder suddenly and he jumped.

"Megumi! What is it?"

"He's awake," Megumi said hesitantly, "and… he's drinking again."

Without a word, Saitou pushed past the both of them and strode into the room. Kenshin followed him rapidly, protesting silently with his aura.

Soujirou was sitting up, much like the way he had been the night before, and he was drinking rapidly from the teapot again.

"Seta," Saitou said calmly, "everyone in the Juppongatana is dead but you."

There was no response; Soujirou seemed totally engrossed in the act of drinking.

"They are all dead," Saitou went on, "Shishio, Yumi, Usui, Anji, Kamatari, Chou, Fuji…" He broke off when it was obvious that he was not reaching the boy.

"Soujirou," Kenshin said kindly, reaching out to touch the boy's shoulder. This time, there was a slight jerk at his touch. The boy's face remained frozen in a blank mask, but tears started to pour down his face even as he continued drinking.

The teapot made a hollow noise as it hit the ground and the boy bent over, his eyes still fixed in an unstaring gaze even as the tears continued to pour unrestrained over his white cheeks.

"Tell me what is going on," Saitou said finally, in a kindlier tone than he had used previously, "You know about the recent murders. You know why your former teammates are dead. Tell me why."

Slowly, Soujirou raised his face and stared straight at them. His eyes were wide and tragic. He leaned forward, his eyes still fixed on them – then he smiled.

"You've better run while you still can."

Megumi made a soft, strangled noise as she backed away, her hand over her mouth. Ignoring her, Saitou leaned forward, his eyes gleaming in anticipation. "What do you mean by that, Seta? What did you mean by that?"

The tears had stopped, and the smile vanished abruptly to be replaced by the same unstaring gaze Kenshin had witnessed the night before. "Why is it so bright?" he whispered, "Why did you bring back the light?"

"What do you mean?" Saitou insisted.

"It was so dark…" Soujirou whispered, his knees curled up to his chest as he rocked himself gently, "And it was so hot… and everything smelled of blood, but it was good… because I was so tired, so tired. Then the light came… and when it came… I saw… I saw…"

"What did you see?" Saitou pushed, ignoring Kenshin trying to restrain him.

"I saw evil."

"What sort of evil?"

Then there was another faint smile, a ghost of what he had many years back. "It is an evil even you couldn't slay, Saitou-san."

Kenshin shot a look at Megumi who nodded approvingly. This was the first time Soujirou had acknowledged their presence, had acknowledged that they knew each other, and they both chose to take it as a good sign.

Saitou was smoking hungrily, obviously eager for some headway in the mind-boggling case. "Describe this evil. What does he look like? Tell me what you know, Seta, and I will prove that there is no evil that I cannot kill."

This time, there was only a smile.

"Answer my question, Seta. Who are you trying to protect? Why should you take the pitfall for whoever caused you so much pain?"

Again, there was only a smile then slowly the young man sank back into the sheets, his eyes half-closed.

"Who is this evil, you ask?" he murmured, "You will find out sooner or later… probably sooner." Then his eyes closed and he sank back into sleep.

Saitou cursed loudly and turned, storming out of the room in a terrible mood. Kenshin and Megumi exchanged looks as well then Kenshin headed out to find his wife while Megumi sat down next to the young man again to keep watch over his physical shell.

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For the next seven days, Soujirou kept to his room the entire time, doing nothing but drink water and sleep, flabbergasting every single inch of Megumi's professional doctoring mind. To make things worse, he adamantly refused to meet anyone but Megumi face to face, and had taken to hiding under his blankets, and even locking the door when others tried to enter his room. Even with Megumi, it took a very long time to coax him to come out from under his blankets. This confusion led to fury, which exploded onto the nearest victim, namely Himura Kaoru, after the seventh day.

"It is physically impossible!" Megumi snapped, pacing up and down as Kaoru sat on the floor and bounced a giggling Kenji. "Technically he could go for months without eating a single morsel of food, but he should be shrinking and dying and _starving _away! He should be screaming and banging his head against the wall in pure agony! Every single instinct of his should be making him run for the kitchen! He should be half-dead! Instead, he has a body so sexy I drool every time I examine him!"

"Well…" Kaoru tried, holding Kenji's arm to stop him from rolling off her lap, "Maybe he isn't hungry…"

"How can he _not_ be hungry?" Megumi shot back, feeling highly venomous. "He hasn't eaten a single thing in a week!"

"Well…"

"And that is not the only thing wrong with him," Megumi went, pacing faster and faster, "He hasn't left the room in seven days at all!"

"Maybe he doesn't mind small spaces…"

"It isn't that, silly!" Megumi growled. "He hasn't been to the bathroom in seven days! He has been drinking almost non-stop, but he hasn't been to the bathroom at all! How is that even possible? His bladder should be exploding!"

"Megumi!" Kaoru protested, blushing as she grabbed Kenji's other arm to stop him from tugging her hair.

"And what's with that look on his face!" Megumi snarled, "I heard that he was a boy who could not stop smiling. Now, I haven't seen a single expression on his face but a wide-eyed stare. That's worse than Aoshi! It's so scary it irritates me!"

"Oh Megumi," Kaoru sighed, dropping the naughty baby on her lap and spanking him lightly on his bottom.

"It doesn't make a single inch of sense!" Megumi went on, "It is unnatural! Irritating as it may be to say this, Saitou Hajime is right – there is something downright wrong with that boy!"

"I understand you being worried by your patient," Kaoru began.

"Worried? More like frustrated! I wish he would just die and prove to me that he is human!"

"But," Kaoru went on, ignoring her, "I am more concerned with Kenshin as opposed to Seta Soujirou."

At that Megumi fell silent and sat down next to her, taking Kenji and bouncing him on her lap as he protested and tried to roll back to his mother. "I know what you mean," she said with a sigh, "He's being… Kenshin again."

"Yes," Kaoru answered with a similar sigh, "He's taking the blame for every single painful experience Soujirou has to go through... taking the full responsibility for however Soujirou's turned out… whatever Soujirou has done… He's being so Kenshin. I worry about what it would do to his mind should Soujirou turn out for the worse."

"I know," Megumi went on, rolling Kenji back to his mother, "If he decides that in the process of trying to save Soujirou's soul, he has led him down the path of destruction… he would blame himself for the whole of eternity."

Both women sighed as Kenji gave a loud cry of protest at having his nose squashed against the floor.

"I wonder what we can do about this," Kaoru mused.

"What _can_ we do?" Megumi answered with a shake of her head. "Look at the way he is so keen to throw himself into the investigations. He is already bent on finding out what is wrong with Soujirou, solving the murders, possibly proving Soujirou's innocence, and… setting the path as smooth as possible for Soujirou once he can climb up onto his own feet again."

"Saitou seems happy to have Kenshin help him."

"Saitou is happy to see even a glimpse of Battousai in Kenshin."

"Yeah, and I'm not too concerned about Saitou's feelings, actually."

"I just wish he would stop the whole 'a hitokiri is always a hitokiri' thing."

"I just wish he would stop trying to _prove_ his point by making Kenshin act like Battousai."

Both women sighed again as Kenji wailed at having his nose squashed against the floor a second time.

"Oh," Kaoru sighed, picking up Kenji and bouncing him absent-mindedly, "Whatever the case, I will be behind him all the way."

"That is good to know," Megumi agreed, "As long as you are always supportive of him, Kenshin will be fine."

"I hope so…"

Suddenly, their musings were interrupted by the sound of a door sliding open and a hard, hollow object hitting the floor gently. At that, both Kaoru and Megumi sighed again. It was the signal that a certain ex-assassin was thirsty again.

Kaoru got up, passing Kenji to Megumi and headed for the guest room. As expected, the door was already closed tightly, with only the kettle on the floor outside to indicate it had ever been opened.

"You know," she said loudly, "I don't know about you, but being shut up in a room the entire day must be tiring. It might be good to go out and get some sun."

She was greeted by silence as she picked up the kettle.

"You could at least say thanks," Kaoru went on, trying her best to get him to speak up, "Or… something. I have been taking care of you non-stop for this past week, you know. I always had the impression that you were an overly polite boy."

Again, there was silence.

"Hello-o," Kaoru called, deciding to go into full baby talk, "Where is my cutesy little Sou-chan gone to? Is he hiding from his okaa-san? Hmm?"

A soft grunt answered her, and she was startled to discover that Soujirou must have been somewhere near the door, probably leaning against it.

"So you can speak," Kaoru said, smiling, "Why wouldn't you let us meet you anyway? It's not like you are hideous or ugly. I think you're rather handsome in fact."

There was no answer this time.

"Are you shy?" she guessed, "Or awkward because the last time we met you were trying to kill Kenshin? If so, don't be. We have long forgotten about that anyway. It is really not important." On impulse, she grabbed the door and pulled it open. It opened a crack before it was stopped. Peering through, she caught the glimpse of a pale hand gripping the door.

"Go away," came the muffled protest, and she deduced that he was still wrapped up in his blankets.

"Why? If you don't tell me, I wouldn't go away."

Suddenly, she found herself staring straight into a beautiful blue eye. "Himura-san will find out," the voice said, "then it will be all over."

"Find out what?" she demanded, startled by the strength in his voice and the mental clarity he had not exhibited for the past seven days.

"Everything. Then it will be all over."

"What will be all over?"

"It. Then I can finally rest."

Before she could question further, the door was slammed shut on her face and no amount of name-calling and shouting would induce him to speak any further. Sighing in exasperation, she went off to fetch the ex-Tenken his water.

She knew it was a really, really bad idea, but recently, spanking the ex-assassin had grown to become a more than tempting idea.

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The fourth body of the day was not one that had been killed recently. In fact, if Saitou's memory served him correctly, the person had been dead for a good fourteen years already.

But that didn't make things any better for Saitou Hajime as he read the letter delivered to him early that day.

"I'm sorry, Saitou," Kenshin said as sympathetically as possible as he stared at the letter detailing the defilement of the grave of Okita Souji, "He was a good man, and should have been left in peace."

"He was a Miburo," Saitou snarled, his eyes burning with a red, fiery, almost uncontainable anger, "He was a proud samurai. They should have known better than to disturb the grave of a Shinsengumi member, much less a Shinsengumi _captain_. I will not rest until I have destroyed the person who did this, and recovered my brother's bones." His voice was as cold and as harsh as steel, and the policemen around him flinched involuntarily.

"What purpose could have served the murderer to do this?" Kenshin mused, his voice calm and serene. "Was it a challenge to you, perhaps?"

"If it was," Saitou said coldly, the anger in his eyes now a cold, blue flame, "I accept it."

"He knew you would," Kenshin mused, "If it was a challenge. But somehow… I doubt it. That this has to do with the recent murders is in fact stretching it a little."

"Both our intuitions are screaming that it has to do with the recent murders, much like both of us know Seta Soujirou has something to do with the recent murders." A cold gleam in his eyes caught Kenshin's attention.

"You will not try to torture the boy, will you?"

"I give no promises."

"He could not have done this. He could not have left the house without me knowing it."

"But he _knows _something."

"We had this discussion a million and one times before, Saitou."

"And I…"

"Goro-san."

The young policeman cringed as two sets of glares were directed straight at him.

"What is it?"

"Eh… good news, I suppose," the young man said, fidgeting nervously, "You know, we always assumed that the body in the well was Kaede Hiyagi?"

"Yes, what about it?"

"Turns out it isn't."

Now the glares were softened with surprise. "What?" Saitou demanded, "What do you mean?"

"Turns out he was out of town. Left without telling his family because he thought he wouldn't be out long. But he got mugged by burglars, and only just managed to come home. Scared the hell out of his village and…"

Saitou silenced the man with a tiny movement of his hand. "What you are saying is that Kaede Hiyagi is alive and well."

"Yes, sir."

"Then…" Both him and Kenshin exchanged looks. "Then whose body is the one in the well?"

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It was a prospect neither of them relished, but it was their only clue to the identity of the body in the well. Thus, Saitou and Kenshin found themselves at the police headquarters, waiting to examine the pile of flesh that was pulled out from the well.

"It will not be pretty," Saitou warned Kenshin.

"I know," Kenshin muttered, "And don't think I will be too happy looking at it."

"I don't think that," Saitou agreed, "The last time, I barely looked at it because we all thought we already knew who the owner was."

"Um."

There was another long, tensed silence as Saitou smoked hungrily and Kenshin stared fixedly out of the window. Yet, it was almost all too soon when the coroner finally appeared before them and gestured silently for them to follow him.

"What can you tell us about the body?" Saitou asked as they headed towards the coroner's office.

"Male," the coroner replied stiffly, "has many old scars, so I would assume some kind of warrior or samurai now that we all know it isn't a farmer. The flesh is loose and has lost elasticity, so I would think an ageing warrior, but the looseness could be caused by decay. The skin appears to have been peeled off, probably after the victim was dead, which is one thing not in common with the other two bodies. There have been numerous fungal growths on the flesh, and the flesh has absorbed up a large quantity of water resulting in bloating, but that has subsided already."

"Is that all?"

"All we can gather," the coroner agreed, "The flesh is too badly decayed to tell more."

"Ok."

They paused before the coroner's office as he fumbled with his key. Even from the outside, the smell of decay and rot hit hard. Both Kenshin and Saitou refrained from commenting.

"Welcome in," the coroner said dryly as he finally pushed open the door, "Don't mind the smell, though it would probably stick to your clothes."

Kenshin dared not open his mouth to retort for fear that it would be more than words that exited his mouth. It was worse when the coroner pulled out a wooden bucket with the gruesome contents inside.

"You might not want to touch it," the coroner said wryly.

Neither replied as they bent slightly over the contents. The flesh was covered in pale green fungus that sprung out in fan-like shapes, and there were patches of a deeper green growth all over. In many places, the flesh had started to break down, and a yellowish red pus-like substance leaked through. Overall, the flesh was greenish-black, charcoal black in several areas, and highly slimly. It had become impossible to tell that the flesh was human.

"Kami-sama," Kenshin muttered, his stomach heaving uncomfortably.

As the coroner had said, the flesh was visibly scarred in many places, such as one might find on the body of a samurai or at least a fighter. Many of the scars seemed to be caused by the standard katana, but there were some that indicated other types of weapons. It was almost impossible to tell, rot forcing the wounds into odd, limpid shapes.

"Someone who lived a dangerous life," Saitou commented, and Kenshin admired the man's ability to sound calm in the face of such gore, "Were these scars caused more or less recent to death or later?" The coroner shot him a blank look and shrugged.

There was something about the flesh that rang alarm bells in Kenshin's mind. He could not tell what, but he was more than certain there was a clue in front of him, only he wasn't seeing it. He tried tilting his head and re-focusing his eyes.

"How about the size of the person? Could you be able to judge the size of the person based on the length of the thigh flesh we found?" Saitou pressed.

"Goro-san, that is a little difficult to do."

"But you do have an idea?"

"Well… I would say…"

Suddenly, the clue Kenshin was searching for hit him, and he jerked involuntarily.

"What is it?" Saitou demanded, looking easily over Kenshin's shoulder.

"Uh…" Kenshin gaped incredulously and almost touched the flesh with his fingers before coming to his senses and drawing back his hand.

"What is it?" Saitou asked again.

"I… nothing." Kenshin leaned back and worried, pulling himself up and staring at the blank wall.

"Are you sure?" Saitou asked suspiciously.

"I… yes… there is something…" Kenshin admitted, "but I need to confirm it first and… kami-sama… no, it couldn't be." Another look of worry crossed his face and Saitou stared curiously at him.

"A hint perhaps?" Saitou tried, not used to coaxing information out of his usually-nemesis-rarely-ally.

"I… think…" Kenshin hesitated then relented. "I think it is either Aoshi, Enishi or my mentor, Hiko." Putting it in words seemed to hit him hard and he paled.

"Why do you say that?" Saitou asked skeptically.

"No… I don't think it is Aoshi," Kenshin muttered, "Misao would have told us… and it can't be shishou… _impossible_ because shishou is inhumanly powerful… then… kami-sama…" He bowed his head miserably. "It has to be Enishi then. He is the only one of the three who still hung out around Tokyo… and he is the only one… oh no, what should I tell Tomoe?"

"What are you talking about?" Saitou demanded coldly. "Speak coherently, Battousai."

"It's Enishi, the dead person is Enishi," Kenshin said with a defeated sigh, "that scar here… it's caused by the Amakakeru Ryu no Hirameki, the ouji of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu. The only people who have been hit by this move from me and are still alive are my shishou, Aoshi, Enishi and Soujirou. Since Soujirou is still alive, Aoshi's death would have been reported by Misao and Shishou can't be killed by any man on earth, this has to be Enishi's body."

Saitou smoked silently. "So this is the end of your brother-in-law."

"Yes." Kenshin stared at the ground miserably.

"If the defiling of Okita's grave was a challenge to me," Saitou said slowly, "perhaps the murder of Yukishiro Enishi was a challenge to you."

"I…" Kenshin shook his head mournfully. "I don't know. But we will have to confirm that it isn't Aoshi or shishou of course…"

"Of course," Saitou said calmly, "I'm sure your friends in Kyoto can confirm that for you."

"Yes... of course." Kenshin straightened up, his face pale. "Let's get out of here, Saitou. The smell… is getting to me."

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Megumi eased quietly into the room, holding her medicine box in front of her protectively. "It's me," she announced, "time for your daily check-up, Soujirou, so come out of your blankets now." The lump under the blankets did not move. "Oh come on," she groaned, "don't do this every single…" She pulled at the blanket expecting there to be resistance. To her surprise, the blanket slid off easily.

The reason for the lack of resistance was immediately obvious; the boy was sleeping.

An odd little smile curved over her face. It was very rare to find a samurai in such a deep sleep, but here he was, his eyes closed as he slept. Despite her fear of him, and her instinctive dislike for anyone who had once threatened Kenshin's life, she was starting to become fond of the young man. The daily struggles provided her with more entertainment than she had thought possible, something she hadn't had ever since Sano left Japan.

"Either way," she muttered, her professional instincts kicking in, "this is as good a time to give him a thorough examination as any." Reaching out, she gripped his wrist and felt for his pulse. As always, it avoided her, which frustrated her to no end. Giving up, she gently felt his torso. Incredible as it was, his muscles and flesh were back, with almost no indication that he had once been as thin as a skeleton. Despite that, he was still as cold as ice.

As lightly as possible, she felt the back of his neck. The lump had not subsided, which was worrying, but it didn't seem to disturb him. Slowly, she probed the lump, running her fingers around it. It was hard and firm, which was not a good sign, especially because this lump was close to the head. Suddenly, something beneath her fingers moved, and a drawn out snapping sound could be heard. Muffling a scream, she dropped the head and backed off rapidly.

Suddenly, everything made sense to her.

Groaning as her back hit the wall behind and she slid to her knees, her hands pressed against her face in horror, unable to believe what she was seeing. Desperate to get out of the room, she struggled to her feet, gasping, almost close to tears. Before she could turn and run however, she found two azure eyes staring back at her.

"Megumi – donou," the soft, boyish voice murmured in a regretful voice, "Oh no… you found out."

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"In terms of contacting the Oniwaban," Kenshin was saying as they stepped out of headquarters and headed out onto the streets, "I think I should do it. They have provided me with one of their messengers, which should be faster than sending your men out."

"Granted your friends will be able to check on your shishou as well," Saitou murmured.

"Of course," Kenshin mumbled, "but it couldn't be shishou… impossible for it to be shishou… he is inhuman, that man."

Saitou raised his eyebrow and thought about the endless probabilities of challenging Kenshin's master.

"Anyway," he finally said, snapping out of his thoughts, "I have increased the number of men patrolling the outskirts of Tokyo. That should lower the risks of a murder occurring. The problem of course, is that there is… so much of the outskirts, it would be impossible to ensure that."

"I know," Kenshin said steely, "that is why we must get a clue as to the identity of the murderer."

"Which is another troubling problem," Saitou muttered, "I cannot… absolutely refuse to believe my spy network failed to come up with even a possible candidate for this mess."

"They don't even have a nominee?"

"None. Zero."

Kenshin bit his lip gently. "That is unusual."

"I know," Saitou grumbled, "the only clue they have is that silly rumour I told you about the last time and…" Suddenly he stopped, his eyes fixed ahead in a stare of disbelief.

"Saitou?" Kenshin stared at the tall man for a moment then turned to look at what the man was staring at. A sudden chill gripped his stomach, driving his knees to weakness. Beads of sweat started to form on his forehead as he gasped and took two steps backwards.

"Kami-sama…" Saitou breathed, his voice trembling, "Impossible."

A figure slowly advanced towards them, torn sleeves decorated with triangles floated behind, and a smile gracing the cherubic face beneath the high ponytail.

"Hello, Saitou-kun, Battousai," a dry, whispery voice said.

"Oh kami…" Kenshin breathed, "Okita Souji."

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Author's Notes:

Hey, I just had to make sure that no one gets any naughty thoughts about Megumi and Soujirou, ok? This two are not a pair in this fic. The fondness Megumi feels for Soujirou could be maternal or platonic, but not sexual.

The second thing is, I am totally clueless when it comes to how fast decay kicks in, so if there is something wrong with my description of the rotting flesh, I am totally sorry, ok?

Anyway, I hoped you enjoyed this chapter. The next one should be coming up soon, since inspiration with this fic seems to be flowing like wine.


	4. Answers and more questions

Hi people! This is one of those chapters where some questions get answered! I hope that this wouldn't spoil the story for some of you, because I know that for some readers, it is the unknown factor that makes certain stories interesting. However, this fic wasn't intended to be a mystery story, but more of a action thing, so sorry all mystery story fans!

Anyway, I do not own Rurouni Kenshin – period. I merely borrowed it (and I will be returning everything but Soujirou…. Drool…)

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**Answers and more questions **

The cigarette butt dropped from limp fingers, and lay on the ground, smothering slowly.

"Okita," Saitou heard himself say faintly, "what are you doing here?"

A faint, hoarse laugh answered his question. "What a way to greet a friend you haven't met since the end of the Boshin War, Saitou-kun," the dry, crackling voice said, "Or was our parting earlier than that? The memory tends to be fuzzy when you are coughing up blood all the time."

"You are dead," Saitou protested, feeling a weakness he had never felt before in his entire life, "I buried you after you died. I _know_ you are dead…"

"I was, I suppose," the figure replied, "I do remember dying. But honestly, I haven't felt better in many years. It is when you finally don't' have to breathe any longer that you discover what a burden it was to breathe."

"Okita," Kenshin broke in suddenly, seeming to have better grip on his thoughts than Saitou did, "How did you get here?"

"I was brought back to life," Okita murmured, touching the sword at his waist, "at a price… of course." He smiled, and Saitou's lips twisted in a snarl. This was not the innocent, charming smile of the man he had once called his friend - this was the smile of a monster.

"What price?" Kenshin demanded quickly.

He got another smile, and the wide angelic eyes roamed the buildings and the streets. "Why, Battousai, it seems that the era of peace you have fought for has arrived," he said, his voice a mockery of the friendliness he was once capable of, "Quite honestly, I took a long look around before meeting with the both of you, and I was disgusted." His voice turned harsher as he faced Saitou. "I cannot believe that you have indulged this era, Saitou-kun."

"Our job is to defend Kyoto and Japan," Saitou spat, a bitter feeling gorging into him, "Not the era. What are you proposing, Okita? Don't tell me you are the cause of the murders that have been going on. I would have thought better of you."

"Oh no, not all of them," Okita's teeth bared in a smile, "Only the most recent one."

"The body in the well."

"Enishi…" Kenshin turned his head slightly and stared at the ground.

"Was that his name?" Okita questioned, with a curious lilt of the head. "I never asked, of course. That would have spoiled the surprise. I don't think he even realized I was behind him until I struck. Being dead has it advantages – like having almost no ki. Makes it so much easier to strike from behind."

"Okita!" Saitou roared, feeling the uncontrollable anger boil to the surface. "You are a Miburo! Even in death! How dare you!"

The transformation in the dead man's face was so abrupt Kenshin took a step back. "And how dare you shout at me, Saitou Hajime!" Okita barked. "Do you have any idea what it was like to die the way I did? You robbed me of my honour, Saitou, when you refused to let me commit seppuku at the war! You let me suffer to death!"

"Honour? What honour can you speak off now, bringing chaos to the city you once vowed to protect with your life?" Saitou snarled, "Killing a broken man and laying his flesh in the well?"

"He was _by _the well," Okita murmured, his voice suddenly falling to a pleasantly soothing level, "He fell in when I killed him, Saitou, and I had to go down to retrieve his bones. That would explain the dismal state of my uniform, of course." He stared with mock despair at the torn and dirtied uniform.

"Who brought you back to life?" Saitou snapped, striding forward recklessly. "Tell me who your new master is and I will slay him."

"You can't," Okita said, laughing, "Did you think I was brought to life by a human, Saitou? How silly of you, but you were always so… narrow-minded, even when I was still alive."

"Tell me!" Saitou roared, his sword flashing out, "Or I will send you to your grave again!"

"My dear Saitou-kun…" Before Kenshin could react, Saitou shot forward, and his sword went all the way through Okita's throat to the hilt. The sound of bone crunching in and collapsing filled the still air.

"Kami-sama!" Kenshin cursed, "Saitou!" He gripped Saitou's arm and pulled him back. "He is your friend!"

"No, he isn't," Saitou snarled, "He has lost his honour. He is no more my friend than Shishio was."

A slight cough attracted their attention. Saitou grunted in disbelief and Kenshin paled when Okita reach out and drag the sword out of his throat. There was no blood on the blade, only a thin sheen of clear liquid.

"How rude," Okita murmured, "and I was once rather fond of you, Saitou, but apparently it doesn't matter to you anymore." He dropped the sword on the ground and scratched the wound in his throat absent-mindedly as it leaked the same clear liquid that greased the sword. "I cannot be killed," he went on, "not anymore, because technically, I am not alive." He gave a feline smile. "And neither can the poor boy I killed be killed again, which actually reminds me of what I'm doing out here."

"Paying your price?" Kenshin asked coldly.

"Partly," Okita purred, "This Enishi… where is he? You should know, Battousai, since you call his name. I do not recall leaving the boy in a state that leaves no doubt about his identity."

"I do not know where he is." Kenshin shut his mind against the thought of a lifeless Enishi, walking around dazedly, confused as to why he was no longer human… no longer alive.

"Well," Okita murmured, turning around and starting to walk away, "If you do find him, do let me know, wouldn't you, Battousai? My master is most angry with our little raven haired, blue-eyed baby for going against his wishes."

"Okita!" Saitou growled and his former friend paused. "When we meet again, I will destroy you."

A flash of a smile, and for a moment, there was a hint of sadness in it. "Maybe you will, Saitou. Till we meet again." And he was gone, vanishing between the buildings.

Kenshin turned to face Saitou, and was shaken by the paleness in his friend's face. "Saitou? Are you ok?"

"Of all the Shinsengumi members in the world," Saitou said wearily, "the last person I would have expected to become corrupt would have been him… it would have been him."

"I know," Kenshin said quietly, "but death does horrible things to one's mind. He died at such a young age when he was still in love with life, and suddenly, to have life returned to him. It would drive any man crazy."

"That is no excuse!" Saitou snapped, appearing to have pulled himself together, "There can be no excuse for corruption. He will be terminated, and I will be the one who will end his reign of corruption." He dug out a cigarette and tried to light a match.

Kenshin nodded slowly then his eyes suddenly filled with confusion. "Saitou…" he said slowly, "Enishi… Enishi doesn't have raven hair."

The match froze, millimeters from the cigarette. Then both of them exchanged startled looks.

"Oh god," Kenshin choked as he broke into a desperate run, "It's Soujirou… it's Soujirou…"

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Megumi's legs gave way under her and she sat heavily on the ground, staring in terror up at the boy who was standing before her.

"Y… you… you…" she stammered, clutching her face, "Y…"

"Yes." He looked down at her with mournfully sad eyes.

"You're… you should be… d… d…"

"I know."

A low groan escaped her throat and a sour taste rose to her mouth, but she could not tear her eyes from him… from the unnatural kink in his neck… from the way it stuck out in a manner that could only mean that his neck was broken.

So captivated was she that she failed to notice that the two of them were no longer the only ones in the room until a warm hand clasped onto her shoulder and pushed her gently out of the way.

"Seta Soujirou," Saitou growled, his eyes already hot with fury, his sword unsheathed.

"You know now, Saitou-san," Soujirou said softly, "Everything is clear." Slowly, he reached out and grabbed the sides of his head, and slowly pushed. There was another low crunching sound then the bones of the neck snapped back into place again. There was another gasp from behind as Kaoru and Yahiko, who had just arrived, caught sight of his performance.

"Not everything is clear," Saitou snapped, "What manner of a monster are you?"

"Hold on, Saitou," Kenshin said calmly, putting his hand on Saitou's shoulder very much the same way he had put his on Megumi's shoulder, "You heard what Okita said – Soujirou has been defying whatever orders he has received. That puts him on our side, at least until we hear what he has to say."

"Then speak," Saitou spat, "so I can put an end to your miserable existence."

"Soujirou?" Kenshin advanced cautiously towards the young man, ignoring Megumi's frightful cry for caution. "Tell us, Soujirou. Maybe we can help you."

"Himura – san…" Soujirou began then his face collapsed as he sat down suddenly, "I should be dead… I don't know why I'm still here… I should be dead… I should be…" Then he leaned his head against his knees and tears started to run rapidly down his face.

Sighing, Kenshin knelt down beside him and patted his shoulder helplessly, unfortunately unaccustomed to dealing with tears from a man. "What happened, Soujirou? What happened to you?"

"I…" With a sigh, Soujirou rubbed the tears away and started speaking softly. "The last time I remembered… being alive... I was heading towards the outskirts of town. There, I stopped at a well… for a drink of water. I… I was leaning over the well… drawing the water out and…" He stopped suddenly, staring at the ground and refusing to meet Kenshin's eyes.

"What is it?" Kenshin pushed.

"I felt a blow to both my shoulders then to my neck..."

"Okita's Sandanzuki."

"Probably. What happened next?"

"I… I felt my head come off."

Megumi gasped and turned her head away immediately, the memory of the unnatural break in the neck all too fresh.

"But I wasn't dead then," Soujirou went on, suddenly gripping Kenshin's wrist hard, "I could… could see what was going on. My head was on the ground… and I saw a man… about my age, but he… he felt older and… and…"

"We know about him," Kenshin said smoothly, patting the hand that had his wrist in a vice grip.

"He went into the well," the boy continued, his voice growing fainter, "my body fell into the well… and… he pulled it out. It was… bleeding… so much. Then he peeled the skin off and he was… humming a… tune. I think I cried… but he kept saying something about how it will be better and less painful… and he… he took my… my… the… skin off and he… cut off all my… the… flesh and threw it back into the well. I… I… he… took the skin… and my head… and he… he wrapped my head to my… body with my skin… then he…" The voice finally broke down completely into tearless sobs.

There was a long silence, which seemed to stretch for hours. Finally, in a very quiet voice, Saitou murmured, "What happened next, Soujirou?"

"I blacked out. I was in darkness… in fire and blood… and I heard a voice detailing my crimes and what punishment I must receive." A brief smile flashed across the broken face. "It was almost a relief… to rest, because wandering isn't what it is made out to be, and I was so tired and hungry… but another voice came in and pulled me… pulled me to the light, all the time telling me… things. And when I woke up, I was in the cart with a man leaning over me with a knife."

"The coroner," Saitou said dryly, "Must have been quite a shock for you."

There was another tensed moment then Megumi started to chuckle at the look of disbelief on Soujirou's face. Eventually, Kenshin started to laugh as well, and even the edge of Saitou's lips quirked up slightly. For the first time since he died, a smile graced Soujirou's face.

"More shocking than waking up in hell, actually," Soujirou admitted, causing Megumi to laugh again, "though, I think watching myself getting skinned alive has to take first place."

"Anyway," Saitou said gruffly, "that voice that pulled you up to the surface…"

"You wanted to know what evil brought me to life," Soujirou said solemnly, "it would have been that voice. I didn't understand quite a lot of what it said. All that I know is, it claimed to be my master, and it wanted me to kill for it. Oh… and it said it wasn't human, and it gave me a glimpse of itself, or so it said."

"What was in it?" Kenshin asked curiously.

"A really… bright glaring light. Looking at it was so painful I almost died," Soujirou started then paused shortly and continued, "almost died _again_, I mean. I saw a cave, with very odd rocks. They were all… a bluish kind of gray. Inside, there was something that looked like… well, an altar or a temple, but it wasn't any temple I have ever since."

"Hmm…" Saitou was mumbling, "And?"

"That's all."

"That's all?"

"Yes."

Saitou crossed his arms, looking a little more than irritated. "Do you hear that voice again?"

"Sometimes," Soujirou confessed, "It keeps telling me I should be returning to him and that it has… people looking for me."

"How many?" Saitou demanded.

"Many. I think… I think the three… me included, that you have identified are not the only ones."

"There are more?" Kenshin said in an almost mournful voice. "I thought… wait, if skin and bone is what is needed to raise the dead, how did he raise Okita's body?"

"I don't think the skin is really necessary," Soujirou said quietly, "If what Saitou told me on one of his previous visits is true, he has raised Shishio-sama and the Juppongatana as well."

There was another tensed silence then Saitou exhaled painfully. "Battousai," he said, "I am going to get more men relocated to this region." As he walked past Megumi, she heard him mumble, "At least six hundred this time. Kami… might as well bring the whole freaking army in."

"I'll come with you," Kenshin said hurriedly, "Yahiko." He turned around and faced the pale-faced youth behind him. "Kaoru." He smiled at his wife. "The dojo is in your hands."

Then they left, leaving nothing but an awkward silence behind. Megumi stared at Kaoru, Kaoru stared at Yahiko, Yahiko stared at Megumi, and Soujirou just stared at the floor and smiled idiotically.

"So anyway," Yahiko blurted out, "Is the King of Hell really a fat man with a goatee?"

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After the initial awkwardness, during which Kaoru had to run off twice in answer to Kenji's cries and Yahiko had excused himself five times to do his training, things had started to settle down a little and return to normal.

Especially Megumi's professionalism.

"I cannot believe that I was so scared I dropped a head with a broken neck," she declared firmly, coming into Soujirou's room with a filled kettle, "that was inexcusable behavior on my part as a physician."

"I…" Soujirou smiled blankly, uncomfortable that he could no longer escape into the silence brought about by their ignorance. "It didn't really hurt. After all, I am dead."

"Not only that," Megumi went, pouring a cup out to him, "your neck was actually in place, but I _dislocated_ it with my probing. Inexcusable! How am I supposed to be a physician when I am this clumsy?"

"It was kind of fragile," Soujirou mumbled, looking deep into the cup, "I know that during my stay here, I have dislocated it numerous times just by turning my head."

"Which is why you locked us out of your room," Megumi deduced, nodding sympathetically, "I can't believe I didn't see it all this time! And your shoulders…" She gripped his arm and pulled his shirt down, causing Soujirou to gawk and turn pink. "Horrible! I haven't seen such terrible swellings in years! How could I have not noticed this? Inexcusable! Absolutely inexcusable!"

"Well… it is not often a physician has to attend to a dead man who is still alive…"

"And there were so many clues!" Megumi went on, "Your need for water, for example. A human body is 70 percent water, so you needed water to regain your bulk. That means, this isn't all muscle, this is water as well." She placed a hand on his chest and Soujirou's already wide eyes widened even further. "And why you didn't need food and didn't need to use the bathroom. You lose water through breathing, perspiration… so every single drop you regained was eventually lost… so you didn't need the bathroom. Elementary! I was so stupid!"

"Megumi – donou?" Soujirou began, trying to break into her monologue. "Aren't you still afraid of me?"

"Afraid?" Megumi scoffed, "I was merely surprised. Now that I've gotten over my shock, there is no reason why I shouldn't go back to taking care of you."

"Why…"

"Oh, you are such an adorable boy," she sighed, pinching his cheeks then wincing when his neck dislocated again, "but so mindless, just like Ken-chan. Mmm… I always felt that a son between Ken-chan and I would be something like you. Black hair… with his attitude." Without breaking a stride, she snapped his neck back into place as Soujirou stared open-mouthed at her.

"I'm dead," he said finally, "when they destroy whatever it is that pulled me back, I will die as well."

"Of course you will," Megumi replied firmly, "and you should be thankful for that. I don't know about you, but if dying and reincarnation means not remembering having my head whacked off by some dead Shinsengumi captain, I would be more than happy to die."

"I…" Soujirou gave up and returned to staring tragically at the sheets. "Why are you always so… positive, Megumi – donou?"

"What else can I be?" she replied, laying him back on the sheets, "but…" It was at that moment Kaoru chose to storm in.

"I could swear I heard something about you and Ken-chan and Soujirou," she fumed, "Megumi, I thought you got over that years ago!"

To Soujirou's amazement, the firm, profession doctor seemed to dissolve into the perfect example of a kitsune. "But _Kaoru_-_chan_, I thought I did… only seeing such an adorable boy made me think of how things could have been between me and Ken-chan."

"Megumi!"

Soujirou stared quietly as the fight between the two women erupted suddenly, his forced smile fading rapidly. The other night, when he was still alive, he had walked past the Kamiya dojo. He had found it tempting to stop and visit his new model in philosophy, yet courtesy had stopped him from interrupting their sleep in the middle of the night. Right now, he wondered how things would have changed had he stopped. If only he had stopped, things could have been so different. He wouldn't be dead… wouldn't be living a borrowed life with a glaring presence always hanging somewhere at the back of his mind… wouldn't be staring constantly at the wall and feeling so empty deep inside.

If only he had stopped.

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	5. Kamatari, and bluish grey rocks

First and foremost, sorry about the long, long delay! I was very busy with my life outside fanfiction… so sorry, sorry, sorry! Anyway, this chapter was done in a hurry… so… don't sue me if it sucks!

Anyway, Rurouni Kenshin does not belong to me, ever! The only thing that belongs to me is the _evil thing_… which doesn't count for much…

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_For the longest time, he had slept; laying deep within the haven his worshippers hundreds of years back had created for him, waiting out the storm of change that had started to cover Japan. In the darkness, he had hibernated, dimming his light to a mere glow, hoping against hope that no mortal would be drawn to his presence. The time wasn't ripe yet. _

_Then one day, he had heard voices, loud cheerful voices, and the dull, thudding sounds of metal striking earth. Slowly, he had forced itself out from his deep sleep, and gazed up at the light that was slowly but steadily overtaking the darkness around him. _

_Gasps, cries then darkness again, as the mortals stared down at him, pointing, gesturing – but not alarmed. _

_A feeling of joy blossomed within his heart as he reached out its glowing arms to embrace its worshippers. One by one, they dropped to the ground, shedding their flesh as they went before rising again to stare at him in horror and idolism. Many turned to flee, but he caught them in his gentle arms, slowing caressing the restricting flesh off them and making them see. _

_But they were not enough. He needed more followers, as is worthy of a god. Thus they spread out, heading for the next largest body of mortals. _

_And what an odd name it was called, he pondered, as his disciples moved him forward. Tokyo… the city of many; Tokyo, where his new church shall be formed, and where no god or man shall ever challenge him again. _

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"Why was I not told about this?" Saitou demanded, glaring daggers at the representative from his spy network. The man cringed before him and instinctively tried to make himself appear smaller than he really was.

"Our research was centered on Seta Soujirou," the man began, knowing that he was digging his own grave, but pushing on nonetheless, "and the news never got spread out because that area is really isolated and self-sufficient…"

"Of course the news never got spread out!" Saitou thundered, "The entire village went missing overnight! Wouldn't it be obvious that no one would have gotten out to 'spread the word' as you so charmingly put it?"

"Well…"

"Oh, shut up," Saitou growled, "and get lost before I Gatotsu you."

The young man disappeared with a sudden efficiency and Saitou turned around and glared daggers at his next victim.

"So many dead," his next victim, a.k.a. Himura Kenshin said, "the entire village dead overnight."

"Not more than a hundred people in that village," Saitou muttered, knowing he was going to earn himself a lecture, "they are dead, and so we can't do anything about them…"

"But they are dead like Soujirou is dead."

"What I am more concerned with," Saitou broke in roughly, "is what this thing could do to a city like Tokyo… to the whole of Japan." He turned around abruptly when another officer came in with another report.

With a sigh, the former hitokiri leaned against the table and waited, reviewing Soujirou's 'statement' (as Saitou put it) in his mind. Finally, when the officer left, he murmured, "Why are you so angry, Saitou?"

"I thought it would have been obvious," was the cold reply, "we now know that they are not four, but a hundred and four zombies running around Tokyo, working for a bright glaring light to herald the end of the world as we know it."

"And…?"

"Shut up, Battousai, you know I never quite took a liking to this psycho-analysis stuff that you have developed a strange and unhealthy obsession for."

"You are furious that a 'criminal' like Seta Soujirou would have more honour than a Shingengumi captain such as Okita Souji."

"Yes. Now be quiet and work."

Obligingly, Kenshin picked up a report and started to read.

"Battousai."

"Yes, Saitou?"

"Okita is mine to defeat."

"As you wish."

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Lightning broke the night sky as thunder rumbled, seeming to bring forth a time of dissent and anarchy. Steadily, raindrops started to fall, slowly building up to a rushing torrent of unrestricted angel tears. And at the center of the storm, sat the Kamiya dojo, aware that it is prey, yet unable to do anything about it.

"Kenshin isn't home yet," Kaoru said, laying out the table, "He could be caught in the rain."

"Or still safely tucked away in police headquarters," Yahiko muttered.

"That would be better," Kaoru said wistfully, "though I wished he was home now."

The warm aroma of tempura floated around the dining quarters as Megumi lay the trays down, pulled the handkerchief out of her hair and sat down next to Soujirou, who had finally been persuaded to leave his room.

"It is no use waiting for him," she said, "let's eat first."

"Ok."

Soujirou smiled weakly and stared deep into his cup of water before looking up when Kaoru addressed him.

"What did you say, Kaoru-donou?"

"Oh… I was saying it seems so… rude to give you only water when we are eating, but…"

"It's ok. I'm not hungry." He could smell the fragrance of the food, and could recall the feel of food in his mouth, yet none of this induced any desire for food. Dead was dead, he had come to realize, whether he was in a vertical position or not, and he was fundamentally different from the living. "I don't think I ever will be."

"Oh…" There was an awkward silence as they returned to eating.

"You know, Soujirou…" Kaoru began again then stopped when he held a finger to his lips suddenly. The general mass of eating stopped as everyone turned to stare at him.

"What is it?" Megumi whispered.

Very softly, Soujirou hushed her and closed his eyes, concentrating hard. He hadn't heard anything, hadn't felt any ki, but there was something out there in the dark. There was a filthy… sensation, like a mild vibration in the air - an incessant buzzing that forewarned danger to the occupants of the dojo.

"There's something out there," he whispered as softly as possible. He looked around the dining quarters at the two women, the boy and the baby and sighed. "Listen," he started, "things are going to get dangerous. None of us, not even I, are in any position to fight…"

"I can fight," Yahiko hissed back.

"No, these are the undead." Even as he said that, he was certain that was what he was feeling. "You can stick a sword through them, hack off their head and they wouldn't go away."

"You can fight them," Megumi whispered, "Right?"

Fingering his sword, Soujirou shook his head. "No. My sword was broken by Himura – san. It died that day. I got a new sword, true, but when I was… brought back to life, the old sword was the one that came with me. Probably because it is also the undead, it is under the control of that… thing. I can't pull it out."

"Oh no."

"I can still fight! Kenshin left the dojo to me…"

"Shut up, brat!"

"Whatever, pig-face."

"Shut up, the both of you. Soujirou, what do we do now?"

Startled to find all three (four, including the baby) staring at him, Soujirou bit his lip and thought hard. "Run as fast as possible," he decided, "I will go distract whoever… whatever is here. You guys run for your lives."

"What? But you…"

"It's me they want," Soujirou insisted, standing up as quietly as possible, "and besides, I'm undead and I can run faster than any of you. They can't hurt me, can't catch me, unless they know Shukuchi as well." The buzzing got louder… became almost visible to him. The air seemed to twist and jump like static electricity. "Go now. They are near."

With cat-like stealth, he headed for the front of the dojo, feeling the air thicken into the consistency of slime. It was wet, dirty, like touching a fur rug that had been out in the rain. The feeling of… it against his skin irked him – he wanted to run away and jump into the bath, only he had a feeling it wouldn't make him feel any cleaner.

Slowly but firmly, he pulled the door open, clutching his sword fiercely.

"Ah, Sou – chan. I've come to pick you up now, you bad boy."

Closing his eyes, expecting shock, even horror, but only experiencing a sinking sensation of grief, he let go of the door and stepped out into the cold rain. By sheer force of will, he pulled his smile onto his face, feeling at the same time the sense of brokenness that had accompanied him ever since he killed his family.

"Hello, Kamatari. I've come to send you back to hell."

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A cheerful smile stretched across the feminine face, accompanied by a cold, chilling burst of laughter. "What a thing to say!" the image of Kamatari purred, "You have gotten so serious since we last met! I only want to bring you home, darling; you don't have to act like I'm trying to kill you." The huge scythe was shifted meaningfully to underline the irony of the last line.

Keeping his smile on, Soujirou surveyed the figure before him with blank eyes. "You are happy," he stated.

"I'm with Shishio-sama again!" Kamatari squealed, "I _am_ happy! And Chou had to tell me all about how he lied to me when I was alive to give me the will to live on and all that. How I laughed! That poor man… I would have killed him if I were allowed to, for keeping me from my Shishio-sama. But then, of course, even if I did, he would only have ended up in numerous pieces and not dead again." He sashayed forward, swinging his hips gently. "Don't you want to go back to Shishio-sama, Sou – chan?"

"He isn't the one in charge anymore."

"That is just a minor issue," Kamatari said airily, waving his hand dismissively, "The fact is, I'm with Shishio-sama now, and I would like to keep it that way. So, I'm sorry baby, but I have to bring you to the cave."

"No."

"Oh come on," Kamatari protested, "It will be fun! We're all together again."

"We never cared for each other before so I don't see why we should start now."

The silence that followed that statement was thick and cold. "You mean that, don't you?"

"I do." Soujirou took one step forward, gallantly keeping his smile up but unable to smother the fury burning in his eyes. "I hate what I am now. If I could, I would destroy our new… _master_. I hate this… I hate _you_, for accepting this fate."

Kamatari tilted his head and inspected Soujirou carefully. "You are changed," he said wonderingly, "I always… well… never thought you would change this much." A teasing smile floated across his face. "But how do you expect to fight me when your sword can't be drawn, baby? Come on, don't be a spoiled-sport and follow me home."

"That isn't home." Briefly, Soujirou wondered how far the Kamiya dojo occupants had gotten. "I haven't even been there."

"Well! I can give you a first-hand tour of it!"

"No."

"Ah well… I will still give it to you all the same." The smile widened into a monstrous expression. "Only, I expect you would be in… eh… two pieces about that." With a speed the live Kamatari never had, the dead Kamatari swung the scythe at where Soujirou was standing – only he was no longer there.

Sprinting on the outer walls of the dojo, Soujirou circled around Kamatari, carefully avoiding the swinging ball and chain. Swiftly, he closed the gap between the two of them, and swung his sheathed sword as hard as he could at the back of the transvestite's head.

There was a sharp crack then the back of Kamatari's head collapsed, forming a large, jagged hole. Rainwater started to fill the hollow that had been created.

Landing a safe distance away, Soujirou cautiously watched the figure. Slowly, it rotated around to face him.

"That wasn't very nice Sou – chan." The voice caused a resultant echo that exited from the newly opened hole in the skull. An eyeball slid out of a socket with a wet, plopping sound. "I think you just made me angry."

"Kamatari…" Soujirou choked. "Look at you! You are disgusting! How can you stand this?"

"I am with Shishio-sama!" the undead roared back, suddenly furious. "That is all that matters! The only thing that matters! _You_ are the traitor for leaving!" He thundered forward, swinging the scythe with a new fury.

Soujirou turned and ran, sliding on the muddy ground as he skidded the corners, wincing at the sound of architecture being smashed to pieces by the swinging ball and chain. Lightly, he leapt onto the top of the outer wall and sprinted, circling the dojo faster than Kamatari could keep up.

"Soujirou!" The ball hit the wall several times, rocking it dangerously. Bits of plaster were sent airborne.

"Kamatari," Soujirou muttered, touching his sword again. He remembered the last time he had defeated Kamatari very well, remembered the method he had used. Yet, it was impossible to cut the ball and chain with a sword that could not be drawn. "Kamatari!" he shouted this time, "You are dead!" Skidding to a stop, he watched the catastrophic mess approaching him.

"I am not!" Kamatari shrieked, the pitch of his voice rising dramatically. "I am alive! Alive!" Taking several rapid steps forward, he swung the scythe downwards with the intention of cutting Soujirou in half.

Instead of backing away, Soujirou stepped forward – and dropped his sword.

Hearing a roaring sound in his ears, Soujirou reached out and gripped the scythe, yanking it out of Kamatari's hands.

"Kamatari!" he shouted as he raised the scythe and swung it down hard.

He didn't know which part of the scythe made contact with the body, but instead of being sliced into half, Kamatari's body was smashed in. Like an eggshell making contact with a hammer, the body shattered into several brittle pieces.

It shouldn't be possible, but as Soujirou stood there, the edge of the scythe embedded in the ground, he heard his friend's voice moaning a deep, desperate moan. Dropping the heavy weapon, he stared at the remains of his friend and shook his head painfully.

Then one of the pieces jumped.

Startled, Soujirou took one step back as the pieces started to move, jumping and skidding aimlessly. One piece tumbled onto his foot and started to climb up his leg. With a speed he didn't know he had, he swiped at it, and got it smeared over the back of his hand. Instead of being dry and hard, the piece was wet and slimy. An odour, much like the one you would find on a battlefield invaded his nostrils and he choked.

Trembling, he took several steps forward and kicked at the pieces, scattering them as far as possible. He walked up and down the battle site, grounding the pieces into the ground until they couldn't move anymore. The pieces lay broken beneath his sandals, and he felt a sense of relief.

Then he saw the dark orbs staring at him.

Both the eyeballs were whole, and they were staring at him accusingly. Sitting quietly a few feet from him, both orbs were angled upwards at his face, like they were studying his features.

"I'm sorry," Soujirou whispered, "I'm so… so sorry… I'm sorry, Kamatari, I'm so sorry." He took two steps forward then stopped and stared into the dark iris, seeing the torn expression on his own face. "I'm sorry…"

Neither eyeball attempted to move as he smashed them.

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_He was sinking, sinking in a sea of light and rainbows. Everywhere he looked, he saw a lurid landscape of sunshine and seven-coloured spectrums. Even with his eyes closed, the light penetrated his lids with little effort. _

_There was the trickle of water in the background, but no matter which direction he turned to, he could not see the source of the water. He was so thirsty… yet unable to move towards the life-sustaining body. _

_Slowly, feeling as light as a feather, he sank, deeper and deeper into warm arms. He did not know whose arms these were, but they were soft and comforting, like snuggling up in bed during a rainy day. Reaching out, he embraced the figure that held him and closed his eyes, resting as he sank further. _

_"Who are you?" he whispered. _

_"Rest…" a soothing voice murmured into his ear, "Rest… you have done enough…" _

_"But who are you?" he replied, opening his eyes to take a look. _

_All he saw was a cavern of jagged teeth bearing down on his throat. _

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"Soujirou!"

With a jerk of surprise, his eyes sprang open and a gasp of pain escaped his lips. Sitting up, he placed a hand against his throat. There were no cuts or blood. It had all been a dream.

"Soujirou?"

It was only then he realized that he was surrounded by a ring of concerned faces.

"Ah… Himura – san…" He looked around confusedly at the crowd of policemen, Saitou and the other occupants of the Kamiya dojo. "Kaoru – donou, Megumi – donou, Yahiko – san… and Kenji – san."

"Are you alright?" Megumi asked, kneeling beside him, looking rather helpless. "As far as I can tell, you are not hurt, but honestly… I wouldn't know."

"I'm not hurt…"

"Hey." Soujirou looked up at the lanky figure before him. "Is that the remains of whoever came for you?"

He did not want to look, but his eyes wandered to the carnage which the policemen were sweeping up.

"Yes, Saitou – san. It was Kamatari."

Saitou grunted, as an unidentifiable part of the dead transvestite tried to assault a terrified officer.

"I can so tell," Yahiko remarked bluntly, "The pieces reflect the owner's easily excitable personality…"

There was a brief awkward silence then Megumi remarked, "We have to get rid of whoever is bringing the dead to life or your officers will be spending all their time running after pieces of Kamatari." There were solemn looks all around as everyone contemplated the painful vision drawn by Megumi.

"So anyway," Kenshin said brightly, "I've been thinking about how to find this thing that's been causing all this trouble, and I may have a plan."

"Ok. We're listening."

"Listen," Kenshin went on, leaning closer as they drew together in a circle, "remember, Soujirou said that the cave he saw in his… vision had bluish gray rocks, right?"

"Um."

"Yeah."

"Now, that's rare. Usually rocks are not that colour, see, so if we can pinpoint the locations of places with bluish gray rocks, we could probably identify the approximate position of the… demon… thing."

"That's right!" Kaoru yelped, her eyes glowing with admiration as she bounced her baby. "Good thinking, Kenshin!"

"Oh man, Kenshin, you are the smartest!" Yahiko crowed.

The loud, guttural sound of someone clearing his throat nosily filled the air as two gloved fingers produced a folded piece of paper. "There are two areas at the outskirts of Tokyo that have bluish gray rocks," Saitou said smoothing, smirking as he enjoyed the look on his nemesis's face, "Both areas are rather large of course, so we will need to narrow things down even further." There was a pause. "I was on to it before you were, Battousai." The folded paper was opened to reveal a map.

"I realized, Saitou."

"I had to say it just in case you weren't intelligent enough to catch on yourself."

"I get it, Saitou."

"Seriously, I am not biased against reds or anything, but you know what they say about dumb-reds."

"Shut up, Saitou."

"However," Saitou went on in a more serious tone, ignoring the fuming man behind him, "Both areas are too big, we need to narrow down the search a bit more, especially if the only ones going in are you and me, Battousai."

"Water."

Everyone turned to stare at Soujirou then Megumi was on her feet instantly. "I'll go get it."

"No… actually… yes, that would be very nice, thank you, but…" Soujirou took a deep breath, "I heard water in those visions concerning that thing and the undead need water to maintain their body, so wherever that thing is, it has to be near a large source of water."

"Brilliant!"

"You are the smartest, Soujirou."

"That would be because, Battousai, Soujirou isn't a red-head." Saitou flicked open the map again, ignoring the look on Kenshin's face. "Large body of water…"

Everyone bent over the map. "Hey, I never noticed…" Yahiko remarked suddenly, "Tokyo is almost all water. No wonder that thing moved here with its people."

"Here." Kenshin's and Saitou's finger flew to the same spot at the same time. They exchanged glares then Kenshin went on, "Bluish gray rocks with a large body of water nearby. It's here."

"And that's near the location of the village that disappeared," Saitou added.

Even as he stared at the spot that the two older men were pointing, a shiver ran through Soujirou's body. He wasn't cold or frightened; instead, it felt like he was experiencing a reaction to that spot on the map.

As he took the cup of water from Megumi, he nodded firmly and muttered, "It's there."

"Sure?" Kenshin questioned.

"It is so _there_," Soujirou replied quietly, "that I wish I was half the world away."

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	6. The undead, and Houji

Hello people… I'm trying to write and sleep at the same time, so this chapter is probably going to be a little bit incoherent… ha ha… (dizzy little birds fly around my head). Anyway, do RandR people! Reviews are always, always enjoyable!

Rurouni Kenshin does not belong to me!

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Both Kenshin and Saitou had attempted to talk him out of it, but Soujirou stubbornly refused to relent. There were a number of reasons why he was anxious to follow them on their mission to destroy the monster that had raised the dead. He could argue that he did not want to be around Megumi – donou and Kaoru – donou when his body suddenly collapsed in like a squashed egg, but the real reason was selfish; he did not want to risk Himura and Saitou failing to complete this mission, and leaving him in this state of the rest of eternity.

Yet, Saitou's argument had been perfectly validated. "Seta," he had snapped, more out of irritation than anything else, "This thing obviously has some control over the decaying puppets it has been raising, the question being how much under its control you are. If you go near that thing, you may end up fully falling under its control. I don't want to walk next to some dead man who may suddenly and without warning stab me in the back."

"We don't know that would happen," Soujirou had argued earnestly, "But what we _do_ know is that it is impossible to kill me, even by cutting me into tiny little pieces of sashimi. I can ensure the mission is a success, even if it means hopping down the road in a million different pieces."

"I do not know about you," Saitou had shot back, "but that makes me feel even less comfortable with taking you along with me on some trip into the bowels of the earth."

Finally, Kenshin, in all his diplomatic glory had settled for a compromise simply by saying, "Saitou, in that case, why don't I walk in between you and Soujirou, so if he stabs anyone in the back, it would be me."

With that issue settled, Kenshin had then moved on to a slightly more important question. To quote the former hitokiri, "How are we supposed to kill that funny thing when it comes across as all light and nothing else?"

After several minutes of thinking, Saitou had pulled his ever-present cigarette from his lips and replied, "Gatotsu it."

To which Soujirou added, "Gatotsu it then bury it."

Kenshin, in all his compromising glory then agreed, "Gatotsu it, bury it then pray no one else discovers it for the next century."

And it was settled.

Personally, Soujirou had been slightly taken back by how swiftly the pre-war preparations had been dealt with. When he had been with Shishio, preparation could take days, even months, and they were all carried out by the Tenken. It had thought him that preparations were long, tiresome, tedious work. In the world of Battousai, however, preparation seemed to take only half an hour. This made him wonder how Himura had defeated Shishio in the first place.

More than that, it made him wonder if they could be able to defeat the monstrous being that had risen from the depths of the earth to cover the world in a burning pall.

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"You are going off now."

Soujirou looked up to find Kaoru and Megumi standing behind him. "Yes, ladies," he replied, "I'm going off."

There was a long silence as the two women stared at him. Then Megumi took two long strides forward and pulled him into a brief but fierce embrace.

"That's for Kaoru and me," she said softly to the startled boy, "She can't hug you because she's married, and honestly, I don't give a damn what other people think about me."

"Well…" Soujirou stared at his feet. "Thank you."

Without warning, tears started to spill out of Kaoru's eyes. "I'm sorry, Soujirou," she sobbed, "but… knowing that you are marching off to fight a death match and knowing that you are marching off to fight and die in a death match is so different."

"I am dead," Soujirou said softly, "It will be a relief for me to end this."

"We know," Megumi said, her eyes starting to wet, "We know that, boy, and we let you go because it will make you happy. But when someone dies, there are two parties involved, those who die, and those who remain behind. It is no easier for the latter, boy."

"I… know…" Soujirou looked away. "I guess I always knew, but somehow, it never occurred to me before."

Kaoru drew in a deep breath then clasped his hands in hers. "What do you say to those who will die?" she whispered, tears falling down her cheeks. "What do you give to those who will die? Comfort? Love? Patience?" She gazed up into his eyes.

"You give a swift death," Soujirou replied, steeling his shoulders and gently extracting his hands from hers, "A swift and painless death."

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The distance from the cave to the dojo was by no means phenomenally long, yet by the time they had reached the caves, night had fallen.

Soujirou supposed that he should be glad that the darkness had come, since it was the light that he now feared, yet somehow, there was something ominous about the night. It was dead, soundless, as still as a grave, and perhaps much deeper. All around the whole face of the blue cliff, there were no sounds, no signs of life. Not that it surprised him; this was the perfect setting for the dawn of the living dead.

As they approached the face of the cliff, the wind kicked up, whirling around them with enough force to bend smaller trees. The clouds drifted past, and within seconds, the moon was totally blocked off.

"Foul," Kenshin murmured, and Soujirou agreed fervently. There was no smell, but the air was thick and slimy. Despite the wind, the air felt stagnant and dead. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

"Seta," Saitou demanded, "Which way do we go from here?"

Hesitation clouded his mind, but the next thing he knew, he was pointing towards the right. As his eyes followed his finger, he noticed a gap in the rough face of the cliff. He swallowed, suddenly feeling an irresistible urge to run away. "There," he said hoarsely.

"Are you sure?" Saitou demanded.

"Yes." The greasy sensation he had felt earlier was unmistakable. "It's here." He swallowed. His throat felt dry and swollen.

"Soujirou?" Kenshin inquired worriedly.

"I'm ok," Soujirou lied.

"Is there a voice asking you to decapitate us?" Saitou asked.

"No," Soujirou smiled grimly, "not yet. Let's go in."

In silence they approached the crack. It was just barely wide enough for one man to pass through. The passage beyond was no wider, and they had to enter in a single file. Soujirou went first, with Kenshin in the middle and Saitou drawing as rearguard.

"If someone attacks us here, there will be no space to draw our swords," Kenshin murmured. His voice echoed eerily down the passage.

"Yes," Saitou acknowledged, "but neither will they be able to draw their swords." 

Silence fell over the group again as they walked forward.

Soujirou put a hand to his nose. There was an odd stench that irked him. It was the smell of decay, rot and sand – much like his own aura, he realized. "My, my," he muttered, "so this is home."

"What?" Kenshin asked, even though he couldn't have missed what Soujirou had said.

"This is definitely where Kamatari talked about," Soujirou replied, even though he knew how cryptic his reply must sound to Kenshin, "It smells like me."

"Smells?"

"Can't you smell it?" Soujirou asked, mildly surprised.

"No."

"Umm…" Soujirou grunted, not willing to hazard a guess as to why.

"Unpleasant?" Kenshin pushed.

"Very."

Suddenly, the passage widened dramatically, allowing the three of them to stand side by side with little difficulty. Looking around, they discovered that they were in a huge cavern. From the ceiling hung stone stalactites, sharp and menacing. The ground was bare, save for a tiny stream that ran through the center.

"Where in hell are we?" Saitou muttered.

"Feeding room," Soujirou guessed, and immediately felt that he was right. The urge to dip his head into the murky water and drink deeply hit hard, and he had to hold his breath to stop himself from panting.

There was a hiss then Saitou's cigarette lit up, showing only as a small orange light in the dark. "No one here at all," he commented, "Are we going to walk through to this creature of yours with no one to stop us? How disappointing."

"It is better that way," Kenshin replied, "There is no need to go hacking helpless puppets to bits."

Saitou grunted and looked away.

A breeze seeped in from the dark recesses of the caverns. Soujirou turned, feeling his body being drawn towards it. The wind seemed to envelope him like a winding sheet, wrapping round and round till he couldn't move. A mild claustrophobic attack was quelled almost instantly by a comforting coolness.

A soft, whispering sigh whispered into his ear and Soujirou jerked back to semi-consciousness, left with only the vague feeling that he had just escaped something very terrible.

"What is that?" Kenshin asked, indicating that he had heard the noise as well.

"We have lingered here for too long," Saitou muttered, stuffing out his almost finished cigarette. "Why did we stop anyway?"

"I hope we aren't under the control of that thing as well," Kenshin agreed as he started to move forward.

All of a sudden, people seemed to materialize from the dark, streaming towards the muddy water, their faces emotionless and fixed.

"Wh…"

"Hush…" Soujirou held his finger to his lips. The people moved past them, unseeingly. "They are new," he explained, "like I was. They will drink for many days before they start to take note of their surroundings."

Kenshin stepped away from the path of a woman who stared blankly past him. Her hair hung in tangled, dirty strands around a pale, thin face. Eye bags, like bruises, decorated wide, sightless eyes, set deeply into a face that seemed dead already. Cracked, shrunken lips parted hungrily at the sight of the water, and skeleton-thin legs suddenly hurried forward with a new urgency. Dropping to her knees, she plunged her head into the water and started to drink the brownish, black water.

Looking away immediately, Kenshin turned instead to stare at Saitou. The tall, lanky man was nonchalantly watching the other people in the masses doing exactly the same thing he had witnessed the woman perform.

"What an existence," Saitou remarked upon sensing the gaze directed at him.

"Indeed," Soujirou replied. His gaze fixed on the water and he licked his lips slowly. "Perhaps we should… move on?"

"Let's," Kenshin agreed, "Before they start to take notice of us."

Suddenly, without warning, heads were drawn out of the water and turned towards the three startled intruders. With a disturbing slowness, they started to amble away into the darkness.

"What is this new devilry?" Saitou muttered, fingering his sword instinctively.

As if in answer, a figure broke through the crowd and entered the ring the undead had formed around them.

"This is your death," the figure commented then smiled sweetly at them.

"Heavens," Kenshin cursed.

"Houji," Soujirou finished.

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Giggling, almost contorting himself into a tangle of limbs, Houji fluttered forward, each hand gripping a short dagger. "Oh, it's you, Battousai!" he cried, prancing about wildly, "You and you and you and you and you! Of course! Of course! And you, of course! Saitou Hajime, the great Miburo! Of course! Of course! And you, of course! You, you, you, you, you, you! You, the traitor, you! The Tenken, you! Seta Soujirou, you!" He laughed, throwing out his arms, the daggers slashing through the air dangerously.

"Sadojima Houji," Saitou remarked mildly, "How extremely odd. The last I remembered of him… he wasn't quite like this."

"That's me! That's me! Me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me!" Houji shrieked, stopping in mid-jump and taking two quick steps forward. "Me, me, me! I'm Houji! I'm Houji! Houji, Houji, Houji, Houji, Houji! Me!" He grinned broadly and waved his daggers at them. "Me!"

"He did go crazy in the end, didn't he?" Kenshin asked, "Maybe they stay that way, even after death."

"Houji," Soujirou called.

"Me!"

"Houji…"

"You!" Houji took three rapid steps forward. "You!" Suddenly, his tone dropped and he stared slyly at them. "You thought you won, didn't you?" he sneered, "Wrong! You didn't win! You never won! Me! Me! Me! I won! I won! Shishio-sama won too!" He laughed. "And now we've got new powers!" A tongue sneaked out and run over the thin lips. "You can't kill me this time! No, you can't kill me at all! You will die! Die! Die!" With a wild cackle, he launched wildly at Kenshin.

"Houji! Stop!" Kenshin yelled, side-stepping to avoid the crazily slashing daggers. "This is madness! Come to your senses!"

"Oh for heaven's sake, Battousai," Saitou snapped, escaping the daggers with just a slight tear in his sleeve, "This man has obviously lost every single marble he hadn't lost before he died."

"But…"

"He's dead!" Saitou growled, "Just cut him to little pieces and watch them flop around." With a snarl, he drew his sword. "Gatotsu!" he roared, as he thundered forward, driving his sword deep into Houji's chest before twisting it to cut him in half. He circled around, feeling the strangeness of maintaining his stance with his opponent already in two pieces.

"Uh huh! Uh huh!" Houji jeered, "Can't get me!" He giggled as the lower half of his body suddenly leapt up and went thundering after Saitou.

Startled, Saitou moved aside quickly to avoid the thrashing legs. "I have a feeling," he said calmly, "that this is going to take some time. Battousai, Seta, I would suggest the both of you move on."

"No," Kenshin said quickly, dodging the upper half of Houji's body, "too risky. This isn't like Usui again, Saitou. This is an undead."

"Oh for heaven's sake," Saitou drawled, "There is no difference between the living and the undead; they are both trying to kill you. I am certain I can occupy this dear little thing long enough. Do get on down the road and get rid of the big shiny thing before I get tired."

"But…"

"Let's go," Soujirou said, "Do try to catch up now, Himura-san." And with that, he took off, faster than Houji could react.

"Soujirou!" Kenshin called worriedly. He hissed in annoyance and turned to Saitou. "Watch your own back!" he shouted then took off after the boy assassin.

"Watch yours," Saitou murmured to the disappearing figures. "Now then," he went on, turning to face the top half of Houji, which was cursing in the direction of the two men, "let us end this."

"Do you think you can destroy me?" Houji asked, plastering a look of mock innocence on his face. "Really? I'm _so_ scared of the big bad Miburo!"

"You should be," Saitou replied, smiling grimly, "Miracles do happen, my dear Houji, and somehow or the other, I seem to get more than my fair share of them."

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"We shouldn't have left Saitou behind!" Kenshin said as he sped along side Soujirou. "It's too dangerous!"

"It is," Soujirou agreed grimly, "but even if the three of us stayed behind, we couldn't have been able to get rid of Houji. The only way to ensure Saitou's survival now is to destroy whatever is keeping the dead alive."

"I understand," Kenshin replied with a sigh, "I really do, but…"

"Besides," Soujirou went on, "without Saitou-san, we can travel faster."

There was a long silence as they sped on, their feet pounding against the stone floor. Echoes of their foot steps resounded in the deep caverns, breaking a silence as cold as death.

"Soujirou…"

"Yes, Himura-san?"

"Do you know that you will die?"

"I am already dead."

"Are you?"

Soujirou grimaced, gripping his arm. "Yes."

"You walk, you talk, you drink, you feel…" Kenshin trailed off miserably. "Are those not signs of life?"

"Himura-san…"

"Yes?"

"Stop…"

"Why? I'm merely speaking the truth."

"Stop… as in, stop walking." Slowing to a rather dusty stop, Soujirou bent over, gripping his knee as if he were in pain. "Stop now."

"What is it?" Kenshin asked anxiously, bending over the contorted figure. "What's wrong?"

"I need to drink," Soujirou panted, pulling up his sleeve. Kenshin winced at the sight of the emaciated arm.

"We don't have water…" Kenshin trailed off as he stared at the muddy trickle at their feet.

"For god's sake, don't look," Soujirou groaned then fell hungrily over the wet mud on the ground.

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Saitou winced slightly as the dagger slashed a rather significant cut on his thigh. Grunting, he hit out at the hand that had been clutching the sword. Unfortunately for him, the hand was fast, and presented a very small target.

Jeers came from the roof of the cavern where Houji's head was currently residing. "What's the matter?" he sneered. "Can't hit my hand?"

"That wasn't very nice of you," Saitou commented calmly, "It isn't nice to let your hand run all over the place like this."

"Then how about my legs?"

Saitou narrowly avoided being kneed from behind as a leg when hopping past at a rapid pace.

"That wasn't very nice either," Saitou snapped, feeling his patience start to ebb away.

"Ah, it wasn't," Houji's head giggled, "and by the way, did I mention _legs_?"

For a moment, Saitou froze then instinct sent him rolling to the side as Houji's other leg flew straight for his nose. Reflexively, he slashed out with his sword, severing part of the thigh off. He dodged as the severed part went flying for his face.

Houji cackled maniacally. "Ooh, that tickles."

"I'll show you tickles," Saitou muttered, dodging the other hand. In one smooth movement, he pinned the hand into the ground with its own dagger, where it wriggled and twisted in an attempt to escape.

"Tickles," Houji obliged then laughed, "But that's only one hand, now Miburo." In response, Saitou kicked out at the other hand and pinned it to the ground as well.

"Aw!" Houji wailed. "My hands! My hands! I'll get you for that, you miserable little…"

Without bothering to answer, Saitou grabbed the legs that were kicking blindly at him and threw them as far as he could. They landed with a fleshy sound before leaping up and running towards him again.

"I'll get you!" Houji shrieked. "I'll get you! You evil, evil man! I'll get…" The ranting broke off into a scream as Saitou lodged both of the legs into a crack similar to the one Houji's head was stuck in.

"There," Saitou said, his lips curling in a snarl, "that wasn't so hard now, was it!"

Houji wailed and twisted, but his head was stuck firmly in the crack. "I'll kill you!" he screamed. "Then I'll kill Battousai! And Soujirou! I'll kill every single one of you! You evil men! You evil men! You evil men!"

Saitou snorted and lit a cigarette, wincing at the many bruises on his arms. "Speak for yourself, Houji," he said, blowing out a puff of smoke, "I'm not the one who is so broken up as it is." He smiled and slid his sword into its sheath. "I'll be on my way now. See you in hell."

"I'll kill you!"

"No you wouldn't."

"No he wouldn't, but I will."

Saitou froze, the cigarette half dangling from his lips. Then a low, almost canine growl rumbled deep in his throat.

"Okita."

The former captain stood out from the shadows and smiled. "Hello Saitou."

"You…" Saitou trailed off, startled to find himself driven to muteness by his fury.

"Yes, me." Okita's smile widened. "Your missions is over, Saitou. Once you are dead, it will be all over."

"What do you mean?"

Slowly, Okita raised his sword. Fresh blood dripped from it. Then he withdrew something from his gi and dropped it on the ground. It moved, but Okita placed his foot on it and it stopped squirming.

Saitou's eyes narrowed. "Okita…"

"It wasn't that difficult," Okita murmured, eyeing the hand he was stepping on, "I took Battousai completely by surprise… and the nice little boy… Enishi, was it…?"

"Seta Soujirou."

"Soujirou?" Okita raised his eyebrows and smiled curiously but continued, "Soujirou it is… what a sweet little boy. Tried to take the blow for Battousai, of course… and lost his hand at it. After Battousai went down…" The eyes half-closed, and an expression of pleasure spread across the cherubic face. "It was so easy to deal with the boy…"

Hot, searing fury surged through his body, and for a moment, all Saitou could see was a pure, burning red. "You monster!" he roared, the words barely coherent. "You…"

Okita shrugged. "Dealing with Battousai was merely settling our old scores," he said, "but playing with the boy… now that was fun. I've never seen anyone run that fast… unfortunately, he ran straight into my new friends… and he didn't even have a sword he could use… Oh, he tried to use that ridiculous excuse of a sword Battousai uses. That was such a sad way to go." The smile widened. "You should have heard him scream."

With a wordless bellow, Saitou thundered forward, his sword flashing out rapidly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Okita raise his arm. He tried to change his course, but he was too near, and he was going too fast. Feet skidding, he thrust his sword arm forward as fast as he could. Even as he did, he knew he was a second too late. In slow motion, the sharp-edged of the sword filled his vision.

Then everything turned red.

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	7. Okita, injuries, allies

Hi, I'm back with a new chapter! Umm… actually I have a terrible writer's block right now, so this fic probably wouldn't be updated regularly. For all those who are resentful of the fact that Soujirou and co. are dead, well… all I can say is, the future is not pre-ordained. (I.e. I haven't made up my mind yet.)

Anyway, I don't have anything else to say other than please enjoy this chapter, and review of course! Oh… and RK does not belong to me.

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Okita blinked twice as his former friend froze in mid-run before slowly collapsing onto the ground. He hadn't expected _that_ to happen; Saitou must have been really very furious to be so careless.

"You did it!" Houji screeched from above. "You did it! You did it! You did it! You did it! You did it! You did it!"

"I know that," Okita said softly, "please do shut up."

The heavily bruised eyes stared back at him in disbelief before the thin lips scrunched up in a scream. "You can't talk to me like that!" he shrieked. "You can't! I'm better than you are!"

"I beg to differ," Okita replied coldly, head lowered as he contemplated Saitou's fallen body.

"You can't!" Houji went on, unwilling to back down. "You can't! You can't! You can't! And anyway, I should be angry because that was _my_ prey! Mine! Mine!"

"I said," Okita snapped coldly, "Be quiet." Quick as a flash, a dagger flew from his (seemingly) still hand, and smashed right through Houji's face. A deathly silence fell over the cavern as pieces of Houji flopped about weakly like fish out of water. "You don't have what it takes," he went on, "to make a Shinsengumi captain your prey."

With a sigh, he prodded Saitou's fallen form. "I expected better of you," he went on conversationally, "that was really most unexpected." He jerked back his foot instinctively when his poking let out a flood of warm blood.

Frowning, he turned his back on the body and started down the tunnel - only to have a sword thrust through his stomach.

Surprised, he looked down at the point of the sword protruding out of him, just below his sternum. Then he tilted his head backwards to look behind him at the long, calloused hand gripping the handle of the sword. "Saitou-kun," he said pleasantly, "what a nice surprise. So you aren't dead?"

A low growl was the only answer as Saitou struggled to his feet, blood streaming down his face from the crushed black hole that was now his left eye socket. He groaned and raised his left hand to touch it. All he found feel was the slimy sensation of exposed flesh, hard bone and the wetness of blood.

"Ah… that is unpleasant…" Okita commented, slowly extracting the sword from his abdomen. "Tokio-san would be most unpleased." Saitou staggered backwards as Okita suddenly released his grip on the sword.

"Damn you, Okita," he snarled through gritted teeth, "Damn you." More blood oozed from the torn socket.

"Perhaps you should sit down?" Okita suggested sweetly. "It does look rather serious, and it should have seriously affected your sense of balance, not to mention your accuracy, of course, which is essential for the art of Gatotsu, no?"

"Damn you," Saitou repeated, the words coming out with less force than he liked.

"You don't need to," Okita murmured, his eyes half closed as he drew his sword again, "I am already damned."

Gasping for breath and trying to fight back the dizzy pain in his head, Saitou straightened up and slid into the Gatotsu position.

"My dear, dear Saitou…"

"Gatotsu!" Saitou rasped weakly, shooting forward. Must to his embarrassment, he missed his target totally. To add to his humiliation, he promptly lost his balance, staggering wildly as he fell onto the floor again.

"I think…" Okita drawled. "That only served to underline my point. I really wouldn't like to kill you while you're sprawled on the floor like that. It's rather dishonourable, you know? Would you prefer to just sit in a corner and bleed to death?"

"You… stabbed… him… from… behind…" Saitou panted, struggling to his feet. "You were already… dishonourable…"

"Him? Seta Soujirou, you mean? Yes, I did, when I first met him at the well. Soujirou… how very odd, don't you think? Do you know why it's odd, Saitou-kun?"

"Gatotsu!"

Again, with great ease, Okita moved away from the weak attempt at a thrust. He smiled as Saitou stumbled, not falling, but only managing to regain his balance by gripping the wall. Slowly, he turned around and raised his sword again.

"Gatotsu!"

With a soft, mocking sigh, Okita dodged it again. "If you're going to persist at this ridiculous and meaningless battle, you should really try harder, Saitou-kun. Put more effort into his."

"Gaototsu!"

"Not hard enough."

"Gatotsu!"

"Again, my dear brother."

"Gatotsu!"

This time, instead of dodging, Okita reached out and gripped the sword, skewing the direction of the thrust easily. Thrown off balance, Saitou stumbled to the left, falling heavily against the cavern wall.

A silence fell over the pair as Saitou leaned against the cavern wall, breathing hard. "Soujirou. That was… once your name."

"Yes." Okita smiled. "How interesting. The first person I killed when I was alive, was called Okita Soujirou Fujiwara. The first person I killed when I was dead, was Seta Soujirou. What a brilliant coincidence, don't you think? It is almost like… fate…"

Leaning against the wall, Saitou stared at the undead with glazed eyes. "How… you killed… yourself?"

"The moment I first tasted blood," Okita explained, "I killed Okita Soujirou Fujiwara. The man born from that death would be Okita Souji as you know him." Smiling a horrifyingly boyish smile, he dropped a mischievous bow. "The child of a demon."

A wave of dizziness swept through Saitou and he dropped to one knee, one hand clutching his torn face instinctively.

"You bow to me? You bow to a demon's child?" Okita asked softly, teasingly. "How convenient." He stepped forward, positioning his sword above Saitou's neck. "Perhaps you would be so kind as to perform seppuku? I would gladly be your second."

"Not… while you… live…" Saitou gasped, struggling to raise his sword.

"I do not _live_," Okita replied, "Do commit seppuku, Saitou-kun." He kicked Saitou's sword down and pressed his own sword further down on Saitou's neck. "You wouldn't want to lose your honour now, would you? No… I refuse to rob you of your honour, the way you robbed me of mine."

"No." Saitou shoved the sword away weakly, falling on his side, but slowly pulling himself up. "You are not worthy to be my second."

"Not worthy am I?" Okita questioned then smiled. "Perhaps. Then let's fight. Do show me your Gatotsu again, Saitou-kun. Not many people have seen it slide pass them in mistake, hmm?"

Saitou groaned and tried to straighten his back, but his hand kept drooping down. "O… ki… ta…" he panted, as his world swirled giddily around him, "Gat… Gatot…" He broke off with a soft sigh as he fell again. This time, he did not get up.

"Ah…" Okita murmured, "Finally, my dear, dear brother. You have given up."

"Y… you are… evil…"

"Perhaps." Okita knelt next to the fallen man and positioned his sword again over the neck. "Do you have any last words, before I ease your passing?"

"… Okita…"

"Yes?" Okita murmured, leaning closer to the fallen body.

"You were… once…"

"Yes?" Okita's ear was almost touching Saitou's face.

"You were once… a… great Shinsengumi… captain…"

Then Saitou sliced Okita's head off.

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Groaning in pain, Kenshin struggled to his feet, clutching the wound in his arm. Trying to maintain his customary calmness, he let go of his wound and slowly examined it. Truth be told, it was shallower than he had expected with all the blood that was spilling out, and it wasn't crippling. He was pretty sure he could still use his arm in battle. What's more, it was his left arm that was hurt.

Okita hadn't killed him, he realized. For whatever reason, his life had been spared.

"Soujirou?" he looked around rapidly. The boy had vanished. Frowning, Kenshin rapidly made a makeshift bandage out of his gi as he tried to remember what had happened.

Okita had attacked him from behind, he had got hurt… and so did Soujirou. He remembered seeing a hand flying past out of the corner of his eye as he fell. Then… he had knocked his head on the floor and passed out… then…

Cursing, Kenshin tightened the bandages, looking around for his sword. It was missing. The only sword present was Soujirou's sword.

"Damn!" he cursed and swept up the sword, looking back and forth uncertainly. Blurredly, he had seen Soujirou take off, but Soujirou's motions were hard to track even with perfect vision. What's more, he had been severely disoriented from the fall. "Soujirou!" he called. "Soujirou?" His calls echoed down the tunnel before dying off. "Souji…" He hesitated. Further down the tunnel was something… something stuck on the rocks, flapping limply. Further investigation revealed it to be a torn piece of cloth caught on the edge of the many jagged rocks lining the tunnel.

Positive of his direction now, Kenshin broke into a quick sprint, his feet slapping loudly against the stone floor.

"Soujirou!" he risked calling again. "Soujirou!"

Movement to his left caught his attention, and he slid to a stop, eyes searching for whatever it was he had seen. "Who is it?" he demanded, gripping the useless sword.

Twin red spots glowed in the dark before disappearing.

Kenshin moved cautiously to where the red spots had been and discovered that the tunnel turned sharply to the left. "Who is it?" he demanded again, startled to find himself breathing heavily.

He could not see anything in the dark, which was so solid he felt he was underwater. Slowly, cautiously and very nervously, he started to move forward. "Soujirou?" he asked.

A low groan. "H… Himura-san?"

"Soujirou?"

"Yes. I'm here."

Kenshin breathed a sigh of relief. "Where are you? I can't see in the dark."

"Here… a little more to your right."

Blindly, Kenshin reached out, feeling slowly until he reached the wall then followed it down. "Soujirou?"

"I'm here."

Cold steel under his fingers. "Wh…"

"Sorry, that was your sword."

In the dark, he felt the handle of a sword shoved into his hand. The familiarity of the grip slowed his nerves a little and he managed to smile. "Are you alright?"

"I'm… in a little bit of a… well… predicament, Himura-san."

"What is it?"

"I've lost my left hand."

"Ok."

"I'm losing too much water too… I may… stop functioning."

Kenshin felt forward cautiously until he touched cloth. "Try bandaging it up," he urged, "At least until we find another… water source."

"I've already done that. The limb should heal over but… it may take some time."

"That's ok," Kenshin said quickly, "but we should get back into the main tunnel where there is more light. Just now, I saw two red spots… they looked like eyes or something… and I don't know where Okita is now."

"Eyes… red… eyes?"

"Yes."

"Okita… is that who… who…"

"Yes."

"... Ok, I understand."

"Can you stand up?"

There was the rustle of cloth and harsh breathing then in the dark, he heard Soujirou whisper, "I'm on my feet now. Can I have my sword back?"

"Here."

"Thank you. You've got to… help me."

"Ok."

A hand gripped his gi and Kenshin reached out to hold the waist. The thinness shocked him. "Soujirou…"

"It's ok…" the voice came weak and raspy. "Let's just… end this now, ok?"

"Ok." Moving blindly, Kenshin pulled Soujirou's arm up and slung it around his neck. "Can you hold on?"

"Yes."

Slowly, they started to move, and Kenshin was surprised at the ease at which they managed to proceed. Partly, he decided, due to the fact that Soujirou was now even lighter than Kaoru.

In silence, they moved forward until they reached the main tunnel. With his vision returning, Kenshin paused to examine Soujirou's wounds. His left hand was missing from the wrist down, but other than that, he appeared to be alright, and not in pain at all.

"We'll need to get you some water, I think," Kenshin muttered, tearing some cloth from his gi to replace the already soaked bandages, "No way you're going to fight in this state."

"Mmm. Himura-san?"

"Yes?"

"You said you saw red dots… like eyes in the dark?"

"Yeah…"

Soujirou leaned against the wall of the cave, deep in thought. Then the smell of the undead invaded his nose and he turned to look in the direction it came from.

A flash of twin pin red light, and a dark shape detached itself from the tunnel.

Cautiously, Soujirou glanced down at Kenshin; he was still caught up in re-bandaging Soujirou's wounds. He turned back to the figure and smiled. The figure was still for a while before merging back into the shadows again. No… not completely. Something had been left behind.

"I think this should do," Kenshin said, standing up, "at least until we get some water down y… are you ok?"

"Hmm?" Soujirou smiled down at him. "Yeah… I'm fine. Let's go."

"Well… ok…" Kenshin shot him a dubious look before slinging Soujirou's arm around his shoulders. "Let's go."

"Mmm."

The moment, they reached the spot where the figure had been, Soujirou motioned for Kenshin to stop.

Stooping the best he could, Soujirou leaned over and picked up the object left behind. It was a sword… no, not just any sword. It was a very familiar sword.

"Hey… isn't that…?"

"Yes, it is." Soujirou smiled, sliding the sword into his belt.

To himself, Soujirou smiled. The figure had been so far away, and it had been so dark, but he was certain that he had seen a very familiar half-smile, still buried as always amongst the many layers of bandages.

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Very slowly, Saitou lifted his head from the ground. There was a dull, throbbing pain where his left eye should be, and his head was spinning dizzily. His mouth tasted sour, like he had thrown up. He hoped he hadn't, but just in case, he wasn't going to look at what he was lying in.

Despite the pain, he remained still for a long time, trying to get his bearings. Was he in bed? If that was the case, was he at home or at his office? What had happened? Was he still recovering from the wounds he had gotten after fighting Shishio? He distinctly remembered seeing Battousai at his side recently.

The image of Okita's head falling past his line of vision, the angelic face set in a look of mild surprise filled his mind, and he sat up violently.

Immediately, he regretted it as his world swirled crazily in front of him. Clutching his head and forcing himself to remain upright, he struggled to his feet, looking around the best he could with only one eye.

Okita's body was missing.

Suspiciously, he regarded the cavern, scanning every inch of it carefully. There were pieces of Houji, still struggling weakly… but no Okita… and he was still alive.

"Okita?" he questioned the darkness. There was no reply.

For two seconds, hesitation clouded Saitou's mind, and he stood still, trying to think over his next course of action. Sure, the fate of Okita was unknown, but he couldn't stay back and waste whatever energy he had left hunting down the man. Battousai and Soujirou were no longer in action, so he had to be the one to destroy whatever devil or apparition it was that had been raising the dead. On the other hand, it was dangerous to leave Okita still wondering around. Heaven knows how much more he could impede this mission.

Deciding that it was important to deal with his wounds first, Saitou quickly swathed his head, making a quick assessment of his injuries as he did so. The numerous cuts and bruises he had were not as deep as he had previously thought, and definitely nothing new to his battle-worn body. The lost of his left eye was a terrible setback, but it could be dealt with; already, he felt himself getting used to his one-eyed vision.

Calmness settled over him, and he nonchalantly lit up a cigarette as his old confidence returned. Sure, things had gone a little wrong, but there was nothing he couldn't handle. The main priority then was to deal with the big shining thing. Once it was destroyed, Okita would be put back to rest again, and he could push the memory of the betrayal out of his mind, and return back to the age-old memory of his comrade, Okita Souji of the Miburo.

Mind made up, Saitou replaced his sword in his sheath and grounded out the cigarette. "Onwards we go," he murmured to himself, "To death, to glory and to a brilliant new sunrise." It was something one of his former Shinsengumi comrades had said once. He couldn't quite remember who it was, given that he had been a little tipsy from too much drink, but somehow or other, the phrase had stuck to his mind. After all, it was the last night the Shinsengumi would spend together as one whole organisation.

Proceeding down the tunnel, Saitou felt exactly that way. As far as he knew, he was probably the last Miburo left roaming the earth. If today were to be his death, at least he would have to face it with courage, and hope that out of it, he would bring glory and a new day for the rest to see.

Even as he thought that, he became sure, almost certain in fact, that the one who had said that sentence was Okita Souji himself.

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	8. Usui, psychoanalysis, battousai

Hi people! Finally, I've got another chapter up!

Honestly, I'm not too happy with this chapter. It felt kind of lousy to me, but the good news is, I've started writing this fic again! So, I guess you guys can expect more from this fic pretty soon! To those who have been waiting a long time for this fic, I must really apologise; University life is killing me. Hopefully, I have found the drive to complete this fic though, so that's something to look forward to!

Anyway, please enjoy the fic, and leave a review at the end if you can!

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"Here, have a sip," Kenshin urged, supporting Soujirou as the boy lowered himself slowly towards the stream.

"Thank you."

They had found the source of the stream, strictly by accident. In fact, they had stumbled right into it. The water was clean, compared to the muddy stream Soujirou had been forced to drink from the last time, and for some reason, this made Soujirou less reluctant to drink in front of Kenshin.

Standing watch as Soujirou drank, Kenshin looked around the tunnels again. The cavern where the source of the stream was stemmed out into many narrower tunnels. Truth be told, he wasn't sure which way to go next.

Shaking his head, he turned back to the boy. "How's your left arm, Soujirou?"

"Better," Soujirou panted, lifting himself from the water, "A new layer of skin has formed over… so I shouldn't be losing too much water." Abruptly, he returned back to the water and drank deeply.

"Good," Kenshin replied, feeling hot and thirsty, but highly reluctant to drink any of the water from the cavern, "Do you need to rest long?"

"Just a while longer."

"Ok."

Kenshin looked around the cavern again. Of the many tunnels stemming out, there were four that looked large enough for a grown man to pass through. Intuition told him to pick the one second from the left, but that was based on nothing more than feel.

When Soujirou finally detached himself from the water, Kenshin asked, "Which tunnel do you think we should take?"

Slowly, Soujirou ran his eyes over the tunnels, wiping his dripping chin thoughtfully. "I'm not entirely sure… I think I should take the right tunnel, but…" he broke off and sniffed the air. Suddenly, he was on his feet, gripping his newfound sword immediately. "There're the undead approaching us," he whispered.

"Where?" Kenshin asked, feeling very inadequate with his ability to sense ki useless in the circumstances.

"Tunnel to the extreme right." Soujirou closed his eyes. "Very, very familiar smell."

"My, my," a deep hollow voice echoed from the tunnel, "Yes, yes, how nervous the both of you are. I can see it all, for nothing can escape my Eyes of the Heart now."

Kenshin and Soujirou exchanged quick looks before returning to the figure that was slowly emerging from the darkness.

"Usui," Soujirou acknowledged.

"Soujirou," Usui replied, entering into the light, "And of course, Battousai."

Carefully, Kenshin and Soujirou separated, approaching Usui in a pincer movement. "Usui," Soujirou said calmly, "let us through. Once we destroy that thing that is raising the dead, we can all go back to hell where we belong."

Usui chuckled. "Oh no, my dear boy, that isn't what I want. I want to remain here."

"Like this?" Soujirou sighed. "Why are you people willing to remain like this?"

"To avoid Hell," Usui replied, drawing his spear, "That Shishio… now that's a man I want to avoid. Do you know that he is trying to take over Hell?"

Soujirou blinked twice. "He is?"

"Of course. That's the reason why he's rejecting this thing that has brought him back to life." A sly smile sneaked over the dead man's face. "You didn't really think you got that sword out of charity now, did you?"

Eyes dropping to the sword, Soujirou studied it for a while. "I had hoped it was so," he murmured, "That was just sweet thinking of my own, of course." A smile suddenly flashed across his face. "Ah well, beggars can't be choosers now, hmm?"

Slowly, Usui slid into position. "Of course not, Soujirou. Now, are you going to fight me, or is Battousai going to fight me?"

Hesitation; Soujirou turned to look at Kenshin.

"Listen," Kenshin said, "You go ahead. I'll deal with him."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, it's not like he's still living. I wouldn't think twice about turning my blade around for this corpse. And you can run faster, of course."

"But…"

"Besides," Kenshin smiled and shrugged, "Even if it is for other motives, you do appear to have a helper willing to drop little prizes along the way for you to pick up. He may not do the same for me."

"Alright then," Soujirou conceded, "Best of luck to you." He turned back to face Usui. "May we meet in Hell."

"Never."

Smiling grimly, Soujirou took off, feet thundering as he headed down the tunnel on the right, hoping against hope that this was the correct one.

"Ah… now that he's gone, you have no worries," Usui drawled, slowly starting to circle his enemy, "You were afraid that he would get hurt again, weren't you?"

Kenshin fixed a cold glare on him. "Yes, I was."

Usui smiled. "Ah… I can see more than that. You are worried about… hmm… Saitou, no? He hasn't turned up yet. Maybe, Houji was a little too much for him?"

Instead of replying, Kenshin slid into the battoujutsu stance. "Fight. Enough of this nonsense."

"I thought you would have enjoyed it, given that you have this strange fetish for psycho-analysis." Suddenly, the shield was thrust forward, momentarily blocking Kenshin's vision. He barely moved quick enough to avoid a sharp jab to his thigh.

"I only enjoy it when it is done to help someone, not destroy a person," Kenshin replied coldly, keeping his distance as he tried to make sense of his opponent.

"Mmm… the thought of destruction makes you… irritated." Usui smiled. "Perhaps it is because you hear your soul calling for it, and it makes you feel… dirty?" The spear was jabbed forward, and just caught Kenshin in the left arm as he side-stepped a little awkwardly.

Usui smiled. "A little off balance, perhaps?" He swung the spear again, and Kenshin barely escaped this time. "I heard you haven't been exercising regularly."

With a sharp grunt, Kenshin pulled out his sword, blocking the blow to his head. "Doing laundry isn't exactly easy," he snapped, "nor is scrubbing the floor or chopping firewood. Besides, what exercise could you have done when you were in your grave?"

That elicited a laugh from Usui. "I've become more… flexible, of course." Grinning, he bent his back, laughing at the expression on Kenshin's face as his spine slid out of position. "Quite convenient, wouldn't you say?" He twisted his back into a highly unnatural position before sliding it back.

Kenshin shook his head in disgust, sliding his sword back into his sheath. "Enough of this nonsense, Usui," he said quietly, "I have no time for this."

"Impatient, as always." Smiling, Usui held up his shield. "Let's see how you deal with me, Battousai."

"You know…" Kenshin said, slowly sliding into the battoujutsu position again, "it is time to put you to rest." Quickly, he leapt forward, pulling out his sword in a swift, horizontal slice.

Usui chuckled as he blocked the blow. "Not good enough, Battousai," he jeered, "not nearly good enough. You can't destroy me, Battousai."

"That is not important," Kenshin replied, circling rapidly, looking for another opening, "Once Soujirou completes the mission, all the undead will go to rest."

"Even Soujirou?"

"Yes."

"Ah… so you're the weak point." Kenshin jerked back rapidly as Usui suddenly attacked rapidly, stabbing his spear forward several times.

Moving quickly, Kenshin rolled backwards, escaping with one wound in his arm. "What do you mean?"

"You do not wish to deliberately end anyone's life," Usui grinned, licking his spear, "And to you, Soujirou is as good as alive. So, if in the end, you are the only one left to defeat my new master… you wouldn't do it."

"You're wrong."

"You wouldn't," Usui jeered, laughing loudly, "You wouldn't because you do not wish to end Soujirou's life! Because… you see a part of yourself in him, don't you? Doesn't he remind you a little bit of your hitokiri self? You want to believe that he can be saved, because you want to believe that you can be saved. You want to believe that you can be saved because you can save every single being you have met along the way."

"Wrong," Kenshin said softly, "entirely wrong. I have been saved, by Kaoru… by my wife, and my child… and all my friends. I wish to save Soujirou because it is my philosophy in life. He deserves a chance to live."

"So I was right?"

"No… in this case… unfortunate as it may be, he can only be saved in death."

"Hypocrite."

"Say what you wish," Kenshin replied coldly, "But if that is his wish, I will fulfill it. You are not alive, Usui, not any longer." He twisted his sword sharply, turning the sharp edge outside. "Now, go back to where you came from." Leaping forward, he somersaulted in mid-air, turning the point of his blade down.

Slowly, Usui lifted his head and stared into his eyes of his enemy and smiled.

"Oh no," he murmured, "but you will, oh yes, you will, Battousai."

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In the police headquarters, deep into the night, the coroner continued working, slowly, meticulously writing out the report he had assembled for his boss. In truth, the coroner felt like he was the only man in the whole of headquarters who did not hate Goro Fugita for dumping a million tons of work on him. Somehow, he felt it was expected of a boss to do just that, and he wasn't pleased when bosses prefered to do things themselves instead of delegating work.

At present, he was busy doing the finishing touches to his report on the pieces of dead flesh the policemen had brought in less than twenty-four hours ago. Now that had been a trial. The pieces of flesh were all dry and brittle, and he had to soak them in water for hours before they could be examined. Which reminded him; the pieces were still in the water tank.

"My, my," he grumbled, "Have to take them out before they rot…" Slowly, he got up, stretching to remove the kinks in his back. "Need to get a young one to help me one of this days," he mused, "Wonder if Fugita-san would be nice enough to grant me some. He's always asking for more men anyway… should be a few that are not phobic of the dead." Chuckling to himself, he headed for the water tank.

_Tap. Tap. Tap. _

He frowned. Was that the dripping of water onto the ground? Curiously, he examined the tank for leaks but found none. "How odd," he mumbled, circling the tank, "how very odd. Whatever could be that sound."

Sighing, he reached out and gripped the heavy cover and dragged it off. "Time to come out now," he said cheerfully.

Suddenly, a hand shot out from the water and grabbed his throat tightly. "I'm not done yet," a voice hissed.

The coroner blinked confusedly as a strange sensation spread across his neck. It was a very odd feeling, like ice gliding over his skin. He wondered what that was. It was such an interesting sensation… a very interesting sensation… like…

However, he soon discovered that was the least of his worries, when the hand dragged him into the tank, which smelled of rot, decay… and sand.

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Feet pounding on the rocky ground, sand shifting under his feet, Soujirou rounded corner after corner, choosing his route based entirely on intuition. He licked his dry lips painfully. Already he could feel himself losing water; his left hand was still dripping despite the tourniquet he had tied to close the limb.

Skidding to a stop, Soujirou rapidly tore another piece of cloth from his gi, and tied it to his wound. Panting strictly out of habit, he leaned against the wall and looked down the tunnel. He really wasn't sure this was the way to… wherever he was going. Sure, he could feel the undead, but that didn't mean that it was where the bright, shining thing was.

What was it anyway? Even up till now, even as a creation of this monstrous being, he wasn't sure what it was. He wasn't even sure how to destroy it, if it could even be destroyed.

That scared him.

Shaking his head as if to dislodge the negative thoughts, Soujirou steadied himself again and started to tap his foot against the floor. "I'll get you," he muttered, "I'll get you, even if it means we'll burn in hell together." With one final tap, he took off, sprinting down the tunnels as fast as possible.

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His heart beat thundered in his ears amidst a background of odd rushing noises. Struggling to remain alert, Saitou dug his fingers mercilessly into his palm, forcing himself to concentrate on the stinging sensation, as well as the terrible, throbbing pain on his face.

A wave of nausea washed over him, and he leaned against the tunnel wall, heaving dry retches.

"Damn," he cursed weakly, "I need a drink." He shot the muddy trickle at his feet a disgusted look and forced himself to continue walking.

Part of him wanted to find that big shiny thing quickly, to make sure this mission would be a success. The other part of him wanted to hunt Okita Souji down, and destroy him utterly – or shake some sense into that rock head. And… another part of him, the _weak_ part of him, wanted desperately to just lie down and let it all end.

That was the part of him that he was crushing with a terrible vengeance. But, for a weak part of him, it sure had a terribly loud voice.

"Focus," he muttered, "focus. If you lie down, you're as good as dead. You didn't survive the Ikedaya Affair as well as the whole bloody Revolution just to _lie down and die_ in some bloody corpse infested hole. Move it! Move your legs! Move it!" He gritted his teeth and forced his legs to continue forward.

Suddenly, through the loud roaring sound in his ears, he detected a new sound; it was the sound of water. Unlike the consistent trickle he had been hearing, this sound was deep, almost hollow; obviously from a deep body of water. He swallowed painfully. Maybe the water there would be cleaner, and he could take a drink from it.

Finding new strength, he started to walk faster, using the walls of the tunnel as support.

When he came into the light, he was startled to see the familiar figure of Battousai standing before him.

"Battousai?" he questioned.

Slowly, like a piece of paper, Kenshin's legs folded in and he collapsed on the floor as blood spurted from his chest. Saitou's mouth dropped open slightly in surprise then his eyes narrowed as he watched the figure that emerged from the shadows.

"You," he growled, "and I thought I was rid of you for the rest of my life."

Usui stepped over Kenshin's body, smirking. "Why, hello, Saitou Hajime," he greeted mockingly, "what a pleasure this is. How many people in this world can claim to have met their murderer after their death?"

"Murderer?" Saitou questioned, his pain and weariness forgotten as he prepared himself for battle. "I take you mean 'victor'. After all, murder suggests that you didn't have the chance of means to fight back, and I still have the scars from the wounds you gave me that day."

Usui chuckled. "And so do I," he replied. "It is a very lovely scar that encircles my entire waist."

"I," Saitou replied, drawing out his sword, "have no wish to see it."

"And I have no wish to show it to you," Usui jeered, raising his spear. "But I owe you, no? I owe you revenge." He smiled and gestured towards Saitou's face. "But I see you have already had a run-in with one of my comrades," he snickered, "is it Houji? But I never thought Houji would be capable of harming you. Perhaps, it is one who is not under the control of our master?"

Saitou felt his face sliding naturally into a blank look, one he always wore when he was taken by surprise. "Not controlled?" he asked, trying to appear uninterested.

"Oh, didn't you know?" Usui laughed. "There are some who can resist the call of our master, who are not under his control. Isn't your dear Seta Soujirou a prime example of that?" Laughing, he approached Saitou. "What's the matter, Saitou? It couldn't be that the person who attacked you did it out of personal vengeance now, could it, hmm?"

Scowling, Saitou shook himself out of his thoughts and slid into position. "Enough talk," he snapped, "Either fight or move out of the way."

"Oh, you think you can win me this time," Usui jeered, "Unfortunately, that is incorrect. I am the undead now, Saitou Hajime. Even the great Battousai was helpless before me." Grinning, he stepped further into the light, revealing to Saitou the many gashes and cuts Kenshin had inflicted on him. "You should be scared now, Saitou Hajime, very scared."

"Scared?" Saitou snorted, sarcasm burning through his pain. "Scared of you because you trashed an ageing hitokiri who probably hasn't touched the sword in four years? Don't make me laugh, blind man."

A deep shadow fell over Usui's face. "You talk too much," he growled. "You always talk too much, and always about things that you don't understand. So infuriating, so very infuriating."

"Don't understand?" Saitou raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "My dear Usui, I have always been aware that you make yourself feel superior by destroying those weaker than you are." Then he smiled, his fangs gleaming in the dark. "Unfortunately, this is not one of those times."

Usui's head tilted slightly in confusion then realization dawned. Cursing under his breath, he leapt to the side, just in time to avoid a sideward slash by an infuriated Himura Kenshin.

Saitou's lips tugged in a half smirk as he lowered himself down by the edge of the water, his hands shaking terribly. "Always need me to buy you some time before you get up and fight huh, Battousai?"

Kenshin turned around. His eyes weren't the blank whites they had been the last time this happened – instead they were twin pools of fuming mauve. It was only the last shreds of Saitou's rapidly vanishing ego that kept him from admitting to himself that the two amethyst beams glaring down on Usui were more terrifying than the ocher pits that once terrorized the streets of Kyoto.

"Thank you very much, Saitou," Kenshin replied, but it was in a monotone as deep and rumbling as an earthquake.

Regaining his balance, Usui turned back to his opponent. "What? A sneak attack? From the noble Himura Kenshin?" he mocked.

"Oh, I've learnt a few things over the years," Kenshin deadpanned.

"Oh my," Usui drawled. "Are you so desperate to save Soujirou that you would lay your honour down in ruins, Battousai?"

"Here I come, Usui!" Kenshin roared, suddenly shooting forward. Startled, Usui was forced to back-peddle rapidly, raising his shield to block the sudden thrust.

Cursing under his breath, Usui tried to deflect the blow, but he was a second to late. His shield collapsed to pieces, and he escaped injury only by jumping out of the way. "My, my," he said, his voice a mere shade of the previous mockery, "your speed goes up the more you bleed?"

"Actually, I get angrier," Kenshin shot back, "as any deserving samurai would tell you, rage is a great driving force, as long as it is focused."

Surprised, Usui moved back some more, confused by the person facing him. "Why, Battousai," he tried, "Admitting your blood lust?"

Kenshin smiled, and in the dark, it looked like he had fangs. "Not blood lust," he corrected coolly, "Anger." He shot forward again, and Usui jerked as his arm flew off. "Anger," Kenshin went on, "as I have learned recently, is not bad."

"Not bad?" Usui asked vengefully. "Ah yes, you would be reverting back to the former Battousai now, huh?" He cursed loudly as his other arm flew off.

"It's over," Kenshin snarled.

"Never!" Usui snarled back. "You couldn't have won me! I have gotten stronger, while you have grown weaker!"

"It seems," Saitou drawled, inspecting his nails with mild curiosity. "It seems to me that you are about to die again, Usui."

"Never!" Usui howled, spittle spraying from his mouth. "Never! I will never lose to a dog of the government ever again!"

Suddenly, he leapt forward, plunging into the water. Before he hit it, Saitou managed to slash him once across the waist.

Then he vanished into the watery darkness.

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Soujirou huddled deeper into the shadows as the undead wandered past. Almost none of them paid any attention to him, but he was not taking any chances. If he ran into anymore members of the Juppongatana, it would be all over. Despite what he had said to Saitou, he really did not think he could destroy the monster while hopping through the caverns in a million different pieces.

Yet again, he rounded the corner just to run into more undead, two men and a child. Lowering his head, he walked past, trying to appear like he belonged. As he passed them, they turned to look at him.

"I know you," the child exclaimed suddenly. "I know you!"

Startled, Soujirou's eyes snapped up and fixed on the child. "Y… you do?" he questioned hesitantly.

"Sure I do," the child grinned. "We know him, right?" He tugged at the pants of one of the men.

"He sure does look familiar," one of the men agreed, "Hey, kid, look here!" A flash of familiarity went through Soujirou's mind as one of the men grabbed his wrist and pulled him.

"Yeah, he does look bloody familiar," the other man remarked, "can't quite place him though."

Soujirou raised his eyes to look in to the man's face. It was his brother… his brothers. He gasped as a bolt of fear long repressed shot through his body.

"Who are you?" the other man, the man with the pipe demanded. "Where have we seen you before? Are you one of those who owes us debts or something?"

"He's baka Soujirou!" the child shouted gleefully. "Right? He's the one who killed us all!"

In a flash, Soujirou was out of the man… his brother's hand, already a distance away.

"Hey, hey," his brother, the one with the pipe drawled, "what's the hurry, boy? We haven't met each other in such a long time, no? Not since you cut off my head." Soujirou froze in mid step before turning back to stare at them.

"Baka Soujirou!" the child screamed, laughing maniacally.

"I don't even remember your names," Soujirou said faintly.

Ignoring him, his brother went on, "I only wanted to look at that pretty wakizashi you had. You needn't have cut my head off…"

"You were going to kill me," Soujirou protested weakly.

His brother shrugged. "You were an irritating brat," he said in explanation.

"Go away," Soujirou rasped, turning around to run, "you are from the past, it is all over."

"Hey, Soujirou! How did you die? Did you die the same way we did? Did someone slice off your head? Was it gruesome? Was it horrifying? Was it…"

"Shut up," Soujirou said quietly, images of white triangles set against light blue floating in his mind, "Shut up."

As he disappeared down the tunnel, the mocking laughter of his brothers followed him.

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"Bad what happened to your eye," Kenshin observed.

Saitou snorted. "You don't look so good yourself, Battousai," he replied.

Slowly, they continued on their march down the tunnel Soujirou had entered. "Is it over?"

"Is what over?"

"Your fight with Okita Souji."

Silence. "How did you know?"

Kenshin shrugged, wincing as the wound in his chest spilled blood onto the ground. "You look terrible," he said vaguely.

Saitou grunted.

"So, is it over?"

"I don't know. He was gone when I woke up."

"Gone?"

"Look, I don't know everything ok, Battousai?" Saitou snapped, "Forget Okita; the mission now is to get rid of the mastermind."

"If you insist."

"I do."

Yet again, silence fell over the pair as they continued their rather slow trek up the tunnel. "Shishio is helping us."

"What?"

"He gave his sword to Soujirou."

"Hmm…"

"So, there _are_ some who aren't controlled, no?"

"I guess…"

"Okita…"

"Blew out my left eye; I highly doubt he isn't under control."

"He left you alive."

"To bleed to death."

Kenshin sighed. "Saitou…"

"What?"

"You're bull-headed, you know?"

"Whatever."

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The smell of flesh and sand burning filled the air as the bodies slowly dropped down. Nauseated and trembling, Soujirou turned and faced the next group of undead. They staggered towards him, brandishing scythes, spades and pitchforks. Peasants, he realized, they were all peasants.

Easily, he slashed through them, dancing around their futile attempts to strike him down, and cutting them down like they were weed. Legs and arms flew about as the bodies burst into flames, engulfing the masses of zombies.

As he skidded to a stop, he realized he was smiling. Briefly, he wondered why. Perhaps it was an old habit… or perhaps because… the only alternative was to cry. Funny how death never bothered him until it was his turn to vanish.

More zombies were coming; blank, expressionless faces fixed on him. Yet again, he cut through them, igniting the remains of whatever humanity they once had; an unholy sacrifice to the god they now worshipped.

Slowing down, Soujirou leaned his back against the wall of the tunnel and watched the burning bodies stumble about, flailing, but never falling. Undying, but not indestructible, they tried to reach out to him, to bring him into their fiery orgy.

He sped out of reach, watching grimly as their bodies slowly crumpled onto the ground, flopping helplessly as the moisture vaporized from their shells. The acrid smell of burning sand with the underlying tones of roasting flesh filled the tunnel in a claustrophobic pall. With little to burn on, the flames smothered and smoked terribly.

Through these, the undead continued forward, swinging makeshift weapons inexpertly. Soujirou danced easily away, sword flashing out again and again until the bodies lay flopping weakly at his feet.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed him from behind.

"W…" Soujirou spun around, his sword ready to slash out – and froze at the sight of sweet blue and dirty white.

"You are wasting time," a voice hissed.

Then a sword covered with fresh blood flashed out, cutting through the smoke like a bolt of lightning.

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Ok, that's the end. Please leave a review and tell me how you felt about it!


	9. the light, the dark, the change

Woohoo! A new chapter is up! This is a longer chapter too! Inspirational juices are flowing! Thanks to all those who reviewed or even, just read the story! Things are getting a little more exciting now definitely! I would say this story would end in about two to three chapters! So read on and enjoy! And oh yes… if you have the time, do check out the author's note at the end.

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"Hush."

Soujirou froze as the figure placed a finger against his lips. "Wh…"

"You make too much noise."

Blinking, feeling both confused and terrified at the same time, Soujirou gazed into the face so much like his – the face of his murderer. "You…"

"Yes, it's me," the figure replied, smiling genially at him. "I believe I didn't have much of a chance to introduce myself, no? I'm Okita Souji, and you're Seta Soujirou, I believe."

"Wh… how… why…"

"Excellent questions," the figure shot back wryly. "I shall not elaborate much, but a good summary would go along the lines of, 'You're going in the wrong direction'."

"Wrong… direction?" Soujirou stared blankly into the distance with the vague feeling that he had just missed a very important part of the conversation.

"Yes, wrong direction," Okita said patiently, "this tunnel does not lead to the monster that is responsible for all this, at least not directly. It will take you a long way round before you reach it."

"What?"

"_Wrong direction_, as in you're going the _wrong way_."

"What?"

"You _are_ planning to head towards the monster, right? Well, it's not this way."

Soujirou blinked, opened his mouth to protest, but nothing came out. He wanted to tell the man, "You are a murderer, you are my murderer; you aren't supposed to suddenly appear and act as an impromptu tour guide for me", but the only thing that came out was, "You killed me."

"Yes," Okita said coolly, "it was necessary, and I apologize for it."

"What?"

"I needed help," Okita replied. His voice died off and a look of discomfort came over his face. "I'm sorry… it's hard to explain… but…"

"Explain what?" Soujirou demanded.

There was no reply; no verbal one at least. Instead, a slight, mysterious smile eased over his murderer's face.

Soujirou winced and looked away. Something about the smile disturbed him. Perhaps it was the way the mirth never seemed to reach the eyes; maybe it was the way it seemed to hint at some unpleasant skeletons in the closet. Whatever it was, he did not like the look on the person's face.

"In any case," Okita said, breaking abruptly through Soujirou's thoughts. "Be assured that I am on your side."

"Prove that."

The blue and white sleeves were lifted in a gesture of helplessness. "And how would I do that?" Okita asked, his voice brimming with an odd mixture of annoyance and amusement. "What happened to trust between Man, and honour among thieves?"

"Honour among the dead?"

"Well…" Okita said slowly. "If it makes you feel any better, I was the one who informed Shishio Makoto that you were on your way here, thus giving him sufficient time to come up with a way to help you."

Many retorts floated to his lips, but none came out. It was between him and Shishio after all. He noticed that Okita was looking at him curiously.

"He is under the control of that monster. He cannot do anything that directly hurts the monster, thus giving you his sword was the most he could do," Okita said. Apparently he had mistaken the look on Soujirou's face for skepticism. "Oh yes… and a peace-offering." He extracted something from his haori and passed it over.

His left hand wriggled in protest in his right, and something turned in his stomach. "That's…"

"Yes," Okita said calmly. "Just press it on and hold; it should stick."

"It should?"

Again the slender shoulders shrugged. "It worked for me," he said. "I had to re-attach my head after Saitou-kun lopped it off."

Now truly feeling very skeptical, Soujirou pressed his hand to the approximate area where it was supposed to be. Feeling a little stupid, he held it there.

"Better?" the older man asked, his voice tingling with amusement.

"I don't know." Soujirou let go of his hand and stared in amazement at the reattached limb. He flexed it a little; it felt as good as it used to.

"Do you trust me now?"

"I trust you. I don't know why, but I do." Soujirou blinked rapidly at the ceiling, wondering what prompted that confession.

"Really." A statement, not a question, but there was the hint of surprise in the one word. Black eyes gazed at him before the lips curled slightly in a smile. "Hitokiri instincts, perhaps?"

"Perhaps…"

"Oh the other hand," Okita added. "I killed you; why would you believe me?"

"You don't feel evil…" Soujirou shrugged. "I have seen evil all my life; I guess I can sense it… or something. You don't… give me bad vibes." He stared off into the distance and thought about the people from his childhood who _did_ give him bad vibes.

"I see," Okita said easily. "I think I understand."

"Maybe it's because…" Soujirou hesitated. "Himura-san does not believe you are evil."

"Battousai," Okita said with a hint of delight. "Surprising, isn't it, that he trusts me more than Saitou-kun does. On the other hand, destroying Saitou-kun's eye was probably not a very good way to earn his trust." The faint traces of nostalgia glowed within his eyes, and for two seconds, he looked… human.

Then the mask snapped on again and he turned around without another word. Silently, he pointed further down the tunnel and proceeded down.

Feeling comfortable, almost too comfortable with this arrangement, Soujirou trailed after him, still holding his hand in place. For the first time since entering the tunnel, Soujirou felt truly in one piece, or perhaps, as whole as a dead person could feel.

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"Heavens!" Kenshin muttered, clamping a hand to his nose instinctively, as the smell of burnt flesh and rot enveloped them like a thick, musty blanket.

Saitou scowled, walking forward a little unsteadily, kicking away the trembling pieces of humanity that clung to him. Black fumes rose in tiny swirls from the dead bodies as he stomped on them.

"Shishio's sword did this," he muttered. "So Soujirou went through here."

"Yeah," Kenshin agreed. "So he's okay. I wonder what's with that scream?"

"This." Saitou nudged a fallen body with his toe. The body was slashed, but it was not on fire. "Shishio's sword did not do this."

Kenshin dropped to his knees, wincing a little as the wound in his front stretched. Slowly, he turned the body around and looked at the wounds. Finally, he straightened up with a low groan. "You're right," he agreed. "These wounds were caused by a standard katana… quite a good one, but not one that has had its blade altered."

"Exactly," Saitou said. "There was someone with him."

"Who?"

"Do you think I am omniscient, Battousai?"

Instead of replying, Kenshin turned his attention back to the ground. Despite the mess of fallen bodies and trampled ground, Soujirou's footprints were obvious. The boy had a habit of walking on the balls of his feet, like he was always prepared to break into Shukuchi.

The erratic movement of Shukuchi was also easy to track; the footprints were much deeper than the rest. Kenshin trailed the heavy imprints forward… until they came to a stop before a new pair of footprints. There, the footprints had gotten a little messed up, but the movement all seemed to be around that particular spot.

Then the footprints led off in a different direction.

"Whoever it was," Kenshin commented. "He or she gained Soujirou's trust. They left together."

"Maybe that thing finally took control over Soujirou," Saitou said grouchily.

"Saitou…"

"Forgive me for not being the most trusting soul on earth, Battousai," Saitou retorted. "I have too dark and cynical a soul to believe every single sob story I hear."

Kenshin rolled his eyes. "Come on, Saitou," he said. "They went this way. Let's go."

Grunting a reply, Saitou started down the tunnel – then paused.

"Do you hear something, Battousai?"

"What?"

"Like… footsteps… and mumbling…"

Kenshin titled his head hesitantly. "No, I don't think… yes, I do." He turned to the left, frowned then gestured to the right. "That way."

They turned and continued down the tunnel that led to the right, away from the tunnel Soujirou and his companion appeared to have gone down. As they proceeded, the sounds grew louder.

The tunnel ended abruptly in a small, man-sized hole leading to a sickening drop down a vertical side of the cliff. Slowly, Kenshin lay down on his stomach and inched towards the opening. As his head reached out of the opening, his hair was whipped about by incredibly strong gusts of wind. Wincing, he pushed back his hair and stared off into the darkness.

At first, he could see nothing; then suddenly, flickering spots of lights caught his eyes, showing dark shadows moving out of the opening of the cliff, the same one they have entered through. Slouched silhouettes wavered out into the darkness, arms swaying to the motion of the bodies as they moved out. Ragged pieces of cloth fluttered in the wind, and the light showed the dull gleam of metal. An awful stench rose with the wind, as the forces of nature seemed to kick up violently.

"What is it?" Saitou whispered from behind.

"Undead," Kenshin whispered back urgently. "Hundreds of them, all leaving their hideout! They're heading for town!"

Saitou cursed violently and pulled Kenshin back so he could take a look himself. "We don't have much time," he muttered. "It'll take them less than half a day to reach the town at that pace. We've got to destroy that thing, and we've go to destroy it fast."

"Let's go."

Even as they sprinted down the corridor, it seemed to them that the terrible stench that came from the undead floated around after them, and chased after them far into the tunnels before they escaped it.

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"This way," Okita murmured, turning around the corner of a tunnel cautiously. "We are getting very near that monster now, Soujirou… Soujirou?" He gazed back at the dawdling figure, making its way slowly towards him. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Soujirou said reluctantly. "It's just… I can feel that… thing's presence. Just… just what is it? How can it fill my mind with its… sheer presence? It's impossible…" His eyes glazed over suddenly.

The light seemed to fill his mind, drawing him forward… no backwards… pushing… pulling… gripping him in an icy embrace… drowning him… Cold tentacles draped over his head, stroking him, squeezing him… suffocating him…

"Boy!"

Soujirou gasped in pain and grabbed his stinging cheek. The chilly fingers had vanished, and all he could feel was the heat in his cheek where his partner had hit him. "It…" he stammered helplessly. "It… it was in my… h… h… h…"

"I know," Okita said quietly. "It was in mine too. We are not totally removed from its control, boy. We can resist it, but the moment we let our guard down, it tries to enter."

"What is it?" Soujirou whispered, his chin trembling. "How can it do something like this?"

Hesitation flickered across Okita's face then he leaned comfortably against the wall of the tunnel and flipped a hand carelessly in the air several times. "I suppose I could tell you what I already know," he mused. "Would you like that?"

"Yes," Soujirou said eagerly, feeling a slight stab of envy at the sight of how at ease, comfortable and well-rested his companion looked.

Silence filled the tunnel as Okita stared at the ceiling and contemplated his words carefully. Finally, he confessed, "I do not know what it is or where it came from. All I know about it, is that it is very old, perhaps older than Japan herself." He watched Soujirou's face for a response, but when he was met by a calm, passive stare, he shrugged and continued. "There's a village not too far from here. It's a tiny, self-subsistent village, so most people don't know about it. Right now however, I am certain Saitou-kun knows as much about it as is possible."

"The village that vanished," Soujirou volunteered.

"Precisely." Okita beamed like a proud parent. "They started the whole thing of course." Now a frown replaced the smile. "Well… perhaps it is unfair to say that, because they never meant for it to happen. Their village was growing, far too quickly for their fields to handle. Quite naturally, they needed more land to farm, more land for grazing, more land for housing. So they ventured into the nearby mountains, hoping to level some fields out of them."

"They found it there," Soujirou guessed.

"Yes," Okita said softly, a faint smile lighting his face. "They found it there, buried under stone and dirt. Before they could do anything about it however, it had already taken them."

"That thing…" Soujirou licked his lips. "That thing can kill on its own? Then why does it need us? Why is it creating the undead?"

Okita gave him a surprised look. "Why, I thought you would know, Soujirou," he said pleasantly. "After all, you served a master before, have you not?"

"Well… yes, but…"

"That thing," Okita explained. "That thing has great power, and like anything that has great power, it has a god-complex. What is the use of power, if there is no one to worship you for it? It does not just want to kill, Soujirou, it wants to be worshipped for killing."

Soujirou didn't reply, his gaze fixed on a spot a distance away as words from the past echoed back to him.

_"There are those that are born to lead, and there are those that are born to be led." _

The same words echoed, mingled and merged with others.

_"The strong shall live, and the weak shall die." _

_"If I am the world's most powerful man, you shall be the world's second." _

Then most disconcertingly enough…

_"I am not old enough to be called oji-san, though I guess you can't tell my age the way I look now. My name is Shishio, Shishio Makoto."_

"Have you ever…" Soujiriou began. "Have you ever… lived in the shadow… of another man before?" He tried to meet the other man's eyes, and saw nothing but a solid smiling mask.

"Why do you ask, Soujirou?" Okita asked in a pleasant, but strangely distant voice.

"Because… you see…" Soujirou rubbed his hands together, tracing his fingers over the thin, even scar that encircled his left wrist. "Because… I have. I just wanted to know… how you escape the shadow of a man… how you detach yourself… how you…"

"Who says you ever do?" Okita asked smoothly. Soujirou shot a startled look at the man's face, and was mildly disconcerted to see nothing but a cordial smile on his face. "The thing is, you never do escape from other people's shadows," Okita continued, looking for all the world like he was talking about the weather. "The only way, I would think, would be to die." The smile widened and took on a feline quality. "Though I expect that in our case, that doesn't help much."

There was silence after that statement as the two men stood there, looking at everything but each other. Then with a soft sigh, Soujirou whispered, "Is there any way you know of to kill that thing?"

"There's only one way of killing that I know of," Okita replied grimly and drew his sword.

"And if that doesn't work?"

"Then we die trying." Okita gave another smile. It was a weary, grim smile, but it was the most genuine expression Soujirou had seen so far. "Come, my son," he whispered, putting a hand on Soujirou's arm gently. "It is close. We shall deliver judgment."

"Yes," Soujirou agreed. "We shall deliver judgment… and receive judgment."

"As all who live will…"

"And all who die must."

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Feet pounding on the rough soil of the tunnel, breaths coming harsh pants and gasps, Kenshin and Saitou tore through the tunnels, following the erratic footprints of their young but undead companion the best they could.

"This… isn't… right…" Saitou panted. Blood splattered on the floor from the torn hole in his face. "Who… the… hell… is that kid… with?"

"Save your… breath…" Kenshin panted back, holding the wound in his front painfully. He offered a half-groan, half-gasp of pain before finally stopping and sinking to the ground.

"Battousai…" Saitou snapped, stopping as well as he panted desperately for breath.

"We need to rest," Kenshin wheezed. "We aren't going to help anyone at this rate."

Saitou offered his old nemesis a few choice words about his gender and sexual orientation before sliding to the ground with a soft sigh of relief.

Both parties ignored each other as they concentrated on catching their breath and re-bandaging themselves.

"It seems Soujirou and his friend stopped here as well," Kenshin noted absent-mindedly as he wrapped the bandages tightly around his wound.

"Impromptu restroom, at the corner of Undead Street," Saitou muttered just as absent-mindedly.

"Ha ha…" Kenshin murmured.

His laughter seemed to echo forever, bouncing off the walls of the tunnel, ringing on and on like it would never stop. It took both of them some time to realize that what they were hearing wasn't echoes, but someone else laughing.

"Alright, what's next?" Saitou growled, his patience running to an end. "Come out, you bastard and I shall cut your head off so we can continue our way!"

The laughter rose in pitch, growing so shrill Kenshin had to cover his ears. The volume increased steeply, echoing down the tunnel, sharp shrieks screaming into the darkness.

"Something isn't right," Kenshin gasped breathlessly, squatting over suddenly. "That… that doesn't sound right."

Beside him, Saitou dropped to his knees, clutching his head painfully. His world swirled dizzily, the pain and blood lost finally hitting his system.

"Saitou?" Kenshin panted, gripping his head.

"Leave," Saitou grounded out through gritted teeth. "Must… leave. Not… not… human…"

"Wha…"

Then the laughter was all around them, screaming into their ears as it bounced off the walls of the tunnels. Kenshin found himself wailing in sheer pain as it invaded his mind, tearing at the threads of sanity like a monster.

"Stop it!" he screamed. "Stop it!"

"L… leave…" Saitou panted next to him, lying flat on the ground, the wound in his face pouring blood onto the floor beneath him. "You've… got to… leave, damn it… it's… it's… coming…"

The world seemed to vibrate and jump around him as Kenshin staggered blindly forward, unaware of which direction he was heading. Screaming, he crashed into a wall, clawing at it in a desperate attempt to stay on his feet. He could feel his mind unraveling as the laughter thundered through his skull, rising in a steep crescendo.

"Stop it!"

The next thing he knew, he was tearing at his face, his nails digging into the tender skin, drawing rivers of blood. Blood streamed out of his eyes, his nose, his mouth as he tore at the orifices, screaming and laughing, screaming and laughing along with the monster that now resided in his head.

"Stop it!" he screamed again, laughing so hard tears ran clear streams through the blood on his face. "Stop it!"

His legs gave way under him and he crashed to the ground, biting at his hands, trying to keep them away from his bloodied face. Even as he screamed and laughed, he found himself looking through his injured eyes with an odd sense of calmness. It was almost as if all the hysteria within him was being thrown out so willingly nothing was left inside now but an empty soul.

Then through his bloody fingers he saw it. It was clawing towards him, hiding with the shadows, invisible because that was what light was – invisible.

It was coming towards him.

Closer and closer.

Kenshin stared at it as one crooked beam reached for his ankle, still oddly calm, still scratching at his face.

And it came closer.

Then grabbed him.

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_There were those that would stand against it. It could not believe this. After all those years of sleeping, there were still those who would stand against it. If it were but the worthless humans, he could understand, but to have his own turn against him. After hundreds of years of slumber, it would awaken to be betrayed by its own children? _

_It would not stand this. _

_Already, there were not many within their Home who could stand up to the traitors that now approached it. It did not fear them, but it would not stand this betrayal. _

_Never betrayal. _

_Humans… always failures when it came to loyalty. Worthless, pitiful, weak beings… always fighting against him. He would show them, oh yes he would show them. _

_Nothing can fight against him. _

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Soujirou knew that he was screaming. He couldn't hear himself, but he could feel his chest throbbing and pounding, and his skull straining like it were about to explode. He screamed and screamed and screamed, but the laughter would not stop. It was tearing into him, clutching his skull and shaking him until all his strength drained away,

He was moving now, using Shukuchi to try to escape.

All he was doing was slamming himself repeatedly against the tunnel walls, sending showers of dirt falling down on him.

Where was Okita? What had become of his partner? He did not know. The world was a messy swirl of darkness and vibrating strobes of light. Was his partner okay? Was he screaming also? Was he hurt? Where was he?

"Okita!" he screamed, stumbling wildly, breathing in water that smelled like blood as he threw his arms out in an attempt to find support. "Okita!"

There was no answer.

"Okita!"

Where was his partner?

"Answer me!"

Where was his friend?

"Okita Souji!"

Where was his murderer?

"No!" he moaned desperately as he hit another wall. Pink-tinted water welled up in the deep scratches and poured onto the ground.

Screaming, almost crying in terror, he tumbled to the ground, clawing at the dirt beneath him, feeling it turn to mud as it drank in his life-stream.

The pulsing strobes of light were nearer now. He could have reached out and touched them.

But he didn't need to.

"Okita!" he screamed shrilly, as he felt the first tentacles of light sneaking into his brain. "No!" He clutched his head, trying to stop it from advancing. "No!"

It touched him.

_"Stop struggling, my child." _

"No!"

It caressed him.

_"You are safe now." _

"Go away!"

It embraced him.

_"You are mine now." _

"No!"

But he couldn't run away. He was trapped now, standing still, staring wide-eyed into the distance as he felt cold fingers caress the base of his skull. His hands dropped from his head, dark strands of hair trapped between the bloodied fingers. "No…" he whimpered desperately, but his protests were dying to a dull white noise hidden behind the laughter that resonated within his skull.

He gasped.

Cold, soft lips brushed against his gently as he was pulled into a deep embrace. Immediately, his muscles relaxed and he sank into the cold, soft embrace. He couldn't believe how comforting this mere touch felt. What had he been so afraid of? There was something…

_"Enemies… in the tunnel…" _

That was right. There were enemies in the tunnel. Of course. That was cause for worry. He had to defend… defend…

_"Your Home…" _

Home. How could he have forgotten. He had to defend his Home. That was right. He had to defend… against… against… the enemies… the…

_"You know them." _

Blue and white. He always hated blue and white. His enemies wore blue and white. All his enemies wore blue and white. He had to…

_"Destroy them." _

Destroy them. He had to destroy them. He couldn't let them… let them… destroy…

_"Home." _

Home. He couldn't let them destroy Home.

_"It's the only place you have left." _

It was the only place he had left.

Eyes glazed over, he picked up his (_Shishio-sama's_) sword and slid it into his belt. He had to destroy his enemies. He had to destroy them all and defend Home. He had to…

_"Destroy them." _

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Okita looked back anxiously and slid to a stop. Where was that boy? He had screamed at the boy to run when the laughter had started then he had taken off himself. He hadn't seen which way the boy went, but there were only so many ways he could have gone. Surely…

"Soujirou?" he murmured softly.

There was no answer.

Putting a hand on his hip, Okita let out a regretful sigh. And he had been fond of the boy! Really! He hoped the boy was fine, but if he wasn't… well, there was still a mission to be done.

Well… honestly, after Saitou-kun had cut off his head, the monster's attention had left him, giving him the best chance at reaching that thing unnoticed. As it was, he had happened on the boy fighting the monster's minions… he shouldn't have stopped, but that boy...

Okita's eyes glazed over.

Before he died… he had heard something about Mitsu… something about his sister. Right now, he wasn't so sure it hadn't been a dream. He had been sleeping… always sleeping, living all by himself in that dark, damp building. Dreams and reality, nightmares and life had mixed together in a disorientating blur. Mitsu had always been there for him, of course… and once she had told him that… but he wasn't too sure. And then he had seen that boy…

Okita smiled grimly. Death had made him prone to reminiscence. Now wasn't the time to be thinking about Mitsu… or what had been dream and what had been real. He had to stop that monster. If the boy was still around… still himself, that was fine. But if the boy was lost to the light… then there was nothing he could do. It would all end in darkness in the end anyway, if… no, _when_ he finally defeated that monster.

Still, it was a pity about the boy though. Seta Soujirou… he wondered how that boy had gotten his name. Of course he could see how he could be named Soujirou, but Seta… if he ever got a chance, he would have to ask the boy.

Brushing the sleeves of his haori casually, he smiled dimly to himself and tucked his arms to his chest. If he was going to finish this mission, he would have to start now of course.

The smell of the undead.

Coolly, Okita's hand slid to his sword and he drew it in a swift, fluid motion. With the ease of a trained assassin, he glided into the shadows and hid there, watching the approach of the enemy.

To his surprise, he caught the flashes of white and true blue.

Smiling, feeling pleased with himself, he slid out of the shadows. "My dear Soujirou," he said conversationally. "You were gone such a long time you made me quite worried. I really wouldn't want Battousai to hold me responsible if any harm were to befall you."

The boy turned and gave him a wide smile.

Immediately, Okita sensed something was wrong. He took a step back and eyed the boy suspiciously. Something was wrong with him… his smell! He practically reeked of the smell of the undead… and he wasn't breathing. Always, the boy had breathed, more out of habit than anything else, but now, he wasn't breathing at all.

"Soujirou?" he questioned tentatively.

"You shouldn't be here," the boy replied faintly, drawing his mentor's sword. "You shouldn't be here." His smile grew feral and his eyes hardened. "Murderer," he spat. "Monster."

Okita's eyes narrowed in distaste. Then he shrugged and sighed in mock despair. "So the monster has taken you," he said, smiling sweetly. "Though I expect you fought it as long as you could." His eyes ran over the deep scratches that ran in painful trenches down the side of the boy's face and a faint sense of pity touched his heart. "Did it hurt?" he asked, genuine concern creeping into his voice.

The boy laughed merrily. "Of course not, Okita Souji," he said cheerfully. "How could it?" He smiled. "No one had ever held me like my master had held me. You would not know what that is like now, would you, Murderer?"

"Shush," Okita said with unaccustomed gentleness. "Don't worry, child. It will be over soon." He raised his blade and pointed it at the child-assassin then he tilted his head in an innocently questioning way. "I do wonder if you can still hear me," he murmured. "If the _real_ Seta Soujirou can hear me."

"I am the real Soujirou."

"_If_ you can hear me, Soujirou," Okita carried on. "I do apologise for what I am about to do next… and for other things as well. About why I killed you…" He smiled brightly. "I'll tell you when I meet you in hell. Or perhaps… you would like to guess now?"

"Because you are a murderer," Soujirou replied just as brightly, pointing his sword at Okita.

A smile flickered uncertainly over Okita's face. He thought… he _felt_ something looking at him from behind the ice-blue glass orbs, something not hostile… something not dead.

Slowly, Okita slid smoothly into the position of the Sandanzuki. Across from him, the empty shell stood poised in a perfect battou-jutsu position.

Then he vanished.

Okita's eyes narrowed and he started to rotate in a tight circle, his eyes scanning his surroundings warily. Where had the boy gone? How did he disappear like this? While the monster granted its disciples unnatural life, it did not give them superpowers beyond what they already had. The boy had to be using some kind of technique…

The sudden stench of the undead above him was the only warning he got before the boy was barreling towards him, his sword flashing out at lightning speed.

Gritting his teeth, Okita rolled instinctively to a side, thrusting his sword vaguely in the direction of the boy.

He missed entirely, and the boy had vanished again.

On his feet, crouched close to the ground, Okita brushed dirt and pebbles off his haori as he glared at the cloud of dust that was being kicked up around the tunnel.

Shukuchi.

He would never have thought that the smiling little idiot of a boy would be a master of Shukuchi. On the other hand, lots of people had said that of him before as well.

_"Who knew this smiling idiot of a boy could be a master of Sandanzuki?"_

A wry smile spread across his face as he tried to follow the movements of Shukuchi. Talent had to run in the family.

Blue flashes to his right.

Pivoting on his foot, he spun around and thrust his sword forward just as the boy swung his sword down in a deadly arch. Metal clashed against metal, and both blades screamed shrilly as they clawed past each other.

Okita grunted in surprise as flames suddenly curled down his sword and lit his sleeves on fire. Calmly, he shrugged off his haori and left it burning on the ground as he faced his opponent again.

"Interesting technique," he complimented. "Interesting sword. What is it? Human fat?" He smiled genially.

"Human fat?" the boy commented, surprised. "Why would I put human fat on a sword?" Then there was the innocent tilt of the head, the same habit Okita had. "Come to think of it… why… the fires… how?" He frowned and appeared to sink deep into thought.

Okita remained quiet, maintaining his wary stance even as his opponent slid into a relaxed pose. He knew that this monster that called itself a god could, and often did manipulate the memories of the ones it brought to life. It made them concentrate on things that made them _want_ to live, to desire life more than anything else in the world. He wondered what it was that made Soujirou desire life.

"This doesn't make sense at all," the boy announced, a slight pout decorating his pretty features.

"What doesn't make sense?" Okita questioned politely.

"Well…" Hesitation flickered across the boy's features. "Things seem a little different." He eyed Okita suspiciously, a strangely incongruous expression on the open smiling face. "I thought I…"

"Yes?" Okita asked innocently.

"I thought I knew," the boy muttered, his face darkening suddenly, the smiles vanishing as swiftly as they had come. "I was certain I knew. I knew I knew… I mean… I was certain… but then you had to come, you just _had_ to come… and you just had to talk about things like this… and now I'm not sure, I'm not sure at all…"

"What are you not sure of?"

An animalistic snarl snapped onto the boy's face, causing deep wrinkles to form between his eyes. "It's all your fault!" he growled, saliva flying from his mouth. "You and your… big… mouth! Talking all the time… not knowing what you are saying! You. Don't. Know. Anything. Anything at all!" He snarled, fingers clenching and unclenching like he wanted to wring Okita's neck.

"I don't know what you are talking about, boy," Okita said calmly, raising his sword protectively.

"You murderer!" the boy screamed, swinging his sword wildly in his anger. "You _destroyed_ me!"

Dirt and dust flew into the air as the tip of the sword clipped Okita's arm, drawing a thin sliver of liquid. He stumbled backwards quickly as the boy shot forward, swinging, stabbing, his eyes glittering a merciless cold blue in the dark.

"Murderer!" he shrieked repeatedly, hysterically, relentlessly. "Murderer! Murderer! Murderer!"

Sword wavering, trembling under the repeated impact from the crazed boy, Okita back-pedaled as fast as he could, trying to keep up with the wild strength and insane speed his opponent was displaying.

"Murderer!"

"Stop it, Soujirou!" he commanded. "Don't forget your wish to die!"

"Don't you dare!" Soujirou howled. "You _made_ me forget! You _made_ me! You monster!"

The sword impacted with his chest, flinging him mercilessly onto the floor. His sword clattered noisily on the floor, as his body was pierced another time, another time and another time. Pain sent spasms throughout his body and he screamed into the darkness, pale limbs jerking and thrashing.

Yet, even as the stench of burning flesh invaded his nose, even as his vision started to fade, even as the pain in his chest doubled and tripled then dulled dramatically, all Okita Souji could think of was the streams of tears running down Seta Soujirou's face as the boy wailed bitterly into the emptiness that now filled the tunnel.

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_It was rid of the nuisances. His enemies were dead. All of them were dead. Those that would betray it were gone. Those that would betray it were reclaimed. The biggest threat had been removed. It was safe now. _

_No, it would not say it was 'safe' now. Never had there been a threat to its power. They were mere nuisances, rats scurrying through the tunnels. Never was it in danger. It had merely been scratching an itch – a bad itch, but only an itch in the end. _

_Enough of this; it had a world to rule, it had a world to destroy. Much of its disciples had been destroyed, but that mattered not. His new disciple was more than enough. His new head priest was more than enough. He would be its ambassador, its link between his god and the rest of the human world. _

_Now it was time to rise. Now it was time to claim its throne. _

_The time had come. _

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A foot forward. Another foot. Droplets of sweat hit the floor. Dark pokka dots stared blankly up at him like dead eyes. Forward he moved… he had to move forward…

_Left. _

He turned left. Before him, the air vibrated and crackled, static electrifying the air. His clothes were damp against his skin, damp with (_blood_) moisture. It dripped from the tips of his hair. It ran into his eyes. He blinked them out absent-mindedly. He had much more important things to think about. He had to move forward some more. He wasn't there yet…

_Left. _

He turned left again. There was a dull ache in his left wrist. He wondered what had happened to it. Perhaps he had sprained (_amputated_) it during his fight with that monster. That monster… his name was… was…

_Right. _

He turned right. The air was crackling incessantly now, humming and jumping like (_a beating heart_) the air before a storm.

_Left._

He turned left. His clothes were really wet. They felt wet against his skin. A terrible stench rose from them also. It was the stench of (_death_) blood, metallic, salty. The wetness ran in rivets down his legs and into his shoes. They were torn. His shoes were torn. They were torn and wet.

_Forward. _

He walked forward. Before him stood two neat rows of people standing with their backs against the walls. As he moved forward, they dropped to their knees before him, their heads bowed almost to the ground. He drifted past them like a ghost, barely aware of their presence. Ahead, even with the gloom, he could already see a huge door made of stone. That was where his (_monster_) master was. He had to go in there. He had to…

_Stop._

He stopped, standing six feet from the door. Two figures broke away from the rows and came forward, carrying with them cloth and water. He barely glanced at (_his brother and sister-in-law_) them as they knelt before him and bowed deeply. Respectfully, they rose to their feet before bowing deeply again.

They extracted the two swords tucked in his belt and lay them on a cushion that lay before the stone door. Then they returned to his side and started to undress him. Gently, they pulled off his kimono, laying it neatly at the side of the tunnel. The man stood in front of him and unbuttoned the Western-styled shirt he wore. The woman behind pulled it off his shoulders as the other stooped down and started to undo his hakama. Both items of clothing came off together and were discarded beside his haori. As he stood naked, the two figures dipped plain white pieces of cloth into a basin of water then started to wipe him all over. They lifted his arms cleaning between his fingers and nails gently, meticulously. Then they moved to his torso, the man cleaning his back while the woman wiped his chest.

She ran the cloth soothingly over his shoulders then slid it over his chest. Respectfully, almost fearfully, she leaned forward and kissed him where his heart (_was_) is. Her lips trembled as her tongue peeked out from between her teeth and she ran it from his left shoulder down to the right-side of his waist, licking up the bloodied water that dripped over his pale skin. A wild grin of terror and awe jumped onto her face as she backed away from him. Then as suddenly as it came, the fit passed, and she went back to wiping him down, a peaceful look on her face.

Soujirou looked down at where she had licked him, his face void of any emotion. The skin she had touched was (_scarred_) darker than the rest of him. Ponderingly, he reached out and touched it. He had gotten this from…

A pure white nagajuban was being held out to him. He slipped his arms through the sleeves and they secured the undergarment around him. A small basin of clean water was brought forward and poured ceremoniously over his head. His hair stuck to his face the way the cloth of the nagajuban stuck to his skin. A pure white kimono was pulled around him and a pure white obi was efficiently lashed on. He was maneuvered easily into white hakama and a white haori was draped over his shoulders. Now, the man knelt before him and pulled white calf-protectors on, securing white tabi socks into them. At his side, the woman was pulling on white arm guards that spread to the tip of his knuckles. Then his swords were returned to him, their sheaths now a pure white.

A cup of water was offered up to him with calm steady hands. He took it. He drank. The air jumped with static electricity.

_Enter. _

The cup hit the ground hard and shattered. Dreamily, Soujirou walked forward, stepping obliviously over the shattered glass.

"Master," he murmured – and crossed the threshold

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**Author's Note**: Ok, this note is on the character of Okita. Initially, Okita was meant to be nothing more than a tool to introduce the concept of the living dead. But somehow or the other, he became a character that I truly enjoyed writing about. Smiling, cheery, yet jaded, cold and calculating. I loved his character! It was a true mixture of Soujirou's façade and the Saitou's calculating, pragmatic character. That was too interesting a combination for me to let pass, and thus he ended up playing a more important role than I initially intended him to. In fact, his death even (which many of you will protest) was an accident too. I didn't plan for him to die, but somehow he did.

Yet, even on his death, there are still lots of questions left unanswered, such as why he killed Soujirou, and how he is related to Soujirou (no, he isn't Soujirou's father). I, of course, have the answers to all that, but you as the readers are welcomed to come up with your own interpretations. If you do have a theory, please share it with me by sending me a private message or a review! That would make me very happy indeed. Probably, some of the answers to this questions will be hinted at in the later chapters. But ah well… it is always fun to guess.

Anyway, thanks for reading my story! Do remember to leave a review!


	10. gods, terror, epilogue

Voila! Up sooner than expected, this is the last chapter of this story! It's finally over! That makes me sad but happy as well! Well, if you've got the time, please read the author's note at the end where I talk about my feelings about this story.

Well then, without further ado, I suppose it is time to move on to the story! Enjoy!

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Saitou stopped in mid-run and stared at the body lying before him. The torso, wrecked with multiple stab wounds. The head, decapitated from the body, the eyes cut out, leaving two dark sockets staring back at him. At his feet, trampled beneath him was the burnt haori of the Shinsengumi.

"O…" his voice was cut off abruptly as his throat suddenly constricted. God, how he had wanted to kill this boy! But now that he was here… He forced himself to look closely at the body. It was lying passively, despite the numerous wounds on its body, despite the horrendous burns all over it, like it had accepted death calmly… resignedly.

It did not move. No matter how long Saitou stared at the torn body, it did not move. The undead should have been able to get up and move around. This one lay quietly at his feet, not a trace of life, unnatural or otherwise within it.

Swallowing hard, shutting his mind from the sight of the dead body, Saitou looked around the tunnel as objectively as possible. Footprints… deep, heavy footprints, on the floor, on the walls… even on the ceiling of the tunnel. There was only one person who moved like this – Soujirou. So Soujirou had slain the fallen captain. Yet… why was Okita not moving anymore? Surely his unnatural life would have allowed him some semblance of motion! It was like his gift had been taken away, like he… he had been punished… punished for a…

Transgression.

Scowling, Saitou spat bloody saliva out of his mouth and slipped a cigarette in, carefully avoiding the cuts on his lips. Something wasn't right. Kenshin was missing when he had wakened up, and now Soujirou had slain Okita, not just incapacitating him, but removing _everything_. It was almost like Soujirou was the hand of… hand of some god… coming down… taking away what was most precious from the people who denied that god… like…

He jerked in surprise, sending hot ashes floating to the ground, as the sound of stone grinding against stone filled the tunnel. It sounded like a huge door was opening… or like the ground was pulling itself open to swallow the trash that littered the surface.

"Soujirou," he cursed, dropping the cigarette on the ground and grinding it out. He paused when he realized his cigarette had nearly hit his fallen friend. Not that it would have done much damage; the body was already severely burnt, almost beyond recognition. "O… Okita," he mumbled incoherently then cleared his throat. "You… you were…" He sighed and stepped away from the body and finished, "You were one hell of an idiot."

He scowled into the darkness, but did not attempt to take his words back. It was accurate after all, more accurate than saying something like, "you were an honourable man", because he wasn't. All Shinsengumi members were not honourable, at least… not in ways you would imagine. In the end, they were just idiots… fools, fighting for whatever they felt was truly worthy… using any means possible.

A low growl started at the back of his throat. Well, whatever the case was, this wasn't the time for reminiscing. There were monsters out there, real monsters that would not hesitate to rob you of your body, your soul… your dignity. No matter about those trivial things; at the very least, he wanted the town to still be standing when he returned, preferably with real-life people in it. That couldn't be too much to ask for.

Saitou Hajime had never been much of a praying man. Usually, he left such religious matters to his wife. She, he always felt, prayed enough for the whole family to enjoy peace and prosperity for the next ten generations. But in the darkness, all by himself, with one eye missing and the corpse of his best friend thirteen years dead lying at his feet, he found himself invoking the names of as many goddesses or gods he could think of. Not that it was not justifiable. If there was some god within the tunnels that called upon the corpses of dead humans to serve him then it would only be logical to call upon the names of other gods to counter this demon-god, gods that had the decency to stay where they belonged and not come trampling around the human world where they weren't wanted.

Again, the sound of stone grinding against stone.

Shaking himself out of the lethargy brought on by thought, Saitou started to hurry down the tunnel, following the footsteps of the missing Tenken. There was definitely something very wrong here. The boy's footsteps were slow, dragging, and flat… like he was so exhausted his guard had been let down completely. That couldn't be possible, not for a man who could outrun and outfight Battousai. Something had happened to the boy. Something had robbed him of his spirit, of his instinct, of what had made him an excellent assassin.

Hurrying along, puffing agitatedly on another cigarette, Saitou glared at the footprints and found himself dreading coming upon the dead, unmoving body of Seta Soujirou. He had started to… like that boy actually, or rather, he was at the stage where he did not _dislike_ the boy. That boy reminded him of Okita when the captain had been younger, and far more naïve, but already a master at the act of smiling. No one had known Okita had tuberculosis until he had finally collapsed on the battlefield, and was sent to the hospital where he would eventually die. No one had known how much Okita had wanted to end his torturous existence… not until he had begged Saitou to allow him to commit seppuku. No one ever knew what Okita had really been thinking, ever.

Just like Soujirou.

Sure, when Saitou had first seen the boy, he had found his smile and his distinct lack of ki mildly disturbing. However, he would never have guessed what he would uncover during the investigation into Seta's past after Shishio had been defeated. Finding the Seta family estate, bundles upon bundles of rice rotting away in the barn, the corpses reduced to skeleton by time hidden under the floorboards… the bundles of dirty, discarded bandages and the tiny, torn, blood-stained clothes, hidden behind the bundles of rice in the barn. Then there were the whips hanging from the wall of the master bedroom, whips stained with dried blood. Aging neighbours had talked freely of the screams heard in the middle of the night, of the crying and the laughing, the moans that faded into nothingness.

And here, Saitou had once considered the possibility that Soujirou was the runaway, degenerate son of some rich samurai gone merchant.

Saitou did not know who was the one who had actually killed the Seta family, but he could guess how it had come about. One of the dead corpses had a sword next to it with the Seta name inscribed on it. Another had a shovel dumped unceremoniously across his stomach. They _could_ have been trying to defend themselves. Saitou thought otherwise. Even if he wasn't a "Battousai" predecessor or otherwise, he still knew a little of how Shishio thought. Never would that man reveal himself to the family, if, as the evidence suggested, he had been hiding in their barn. No. The sword and the shovel were meant for someone else, someone incapable of defending himself – at least as far as appearances went.

The tunnel turned left abruptly. Saitou followed suit, still following the weak, almost indistinct footprints.

There was nothing wrong with disciplining a child. Saitou always believed a good whack or two would set a child on the right path. However, no matter how strict he was with his children, he had never drawn blood or even bruises from either one of them before, not even when he was teaching them how to use a katana. That took an incredible feat of gentleness for a man as well-trained in the katana as he was, and he knew his eldest son had come to realize that. The younger children were still terrified of him, but they would understand. He wondered if Soujirou had felt any kind of gratitude for the family that had taken him in, if Soujirou had felt that he had deserved the torture they dealt out because they had been "kind" enough to take him in.

Left. Why were the footprints so certain? There was no sign of Soujirou stopping to ponder which direction to take. It made him wonder, it made him doubt.

An abrupt right. Saitou was practically running now, cigarette left dangling in his mouth, hand clutching his katana.

Straight on. Straight on. Then left.

Saitou skidded to a stop, feet kicking up dust. There was a whole crowd of undead facing him, weapons drawn. Behind them, was a huge stone door. There was no question which way Soujirou had went. The only question was why there was no mutilated or dead undead lying around.

Scowling, Saitou drew his katana and pointed it at the undead. "Move or you are going to regret it," he snarled. He didn't expect there to be a response, and he didn't get one. Roaring in anger, he charged forward, clearing a path almost all the way to the stone door. Then he stumbled.

Cursing, he stared at the ground. Soujirou's clothes, even his undergarments were lying trampled beneath his feet. He stared in disbelief. What the hell was Soujirou doing running around totally naked? Did he think he could fight better with his clothes off? Or had he hoped to stun the undead crowd into shock with his striptease and then sneak past them? He barely had a chance to ponder that before he found himself having to dodge a sword – a sword with the Seta name inscribed on it.

"Bullshit," he swore loudly at the coincidence.

The man leered at him and licked his sword. "Terrified, Enemy of the Home?" he taunted. An obscene gesture graced his hand and he laughed, eyes fixed condescendingly on Saitou's face.

"Terrified my ass," Saitou shot back impatiently. "Where the hell's Soujirou? I'm sure you know who that is."

At the mention of that name, silence fell over the crowd again and they started to back away from him. "Why do you…?" the man questioned hesitantly. "The Head Priest has no wish to see you, not anymore."

Head Priest. Saitou's lips drew into a harsh, thin line. Damn! He knew this was going to happen! He just knew it! They should never have brought that boy along! He should have stayed in the Kamiya dojo, and if the women they couldn't stand the sight of him turning into dust, that was their own problem! But of course, that stupid boy had to insist, he just had to insist…

"Open the doors," he ordered. "I'm going in."

"We cannot do that. The Head Priest is receiving orders from our god." The man licked his lips, appearing uncertain and restless now. It was to no surprise that Saitou found himself deciding that he had enough of this stupid tunnel, with its stupid god and its stupid followers.

"Then move away!" he roared, spinning around to face the door. He dragged his katana into the Gatotsu position, ignoring the undead who were struggling towards him, protesting that he was disturbing their god in his rituals. Eyes narrowed, a scowl fixed firmly on his face, he plunged forward, bracing his arm to take the impact.

The impact was hard, much harder than what he had expected. The results however, were exactly how he expected them to be.

The door shattered upon impact, raining heavy blocks of stone down on the undead zombies. They howled and screamed in agony, but always still advanced towards him, trying to cut him down with spade and rake. Saitou ignored them and charged forward, dodging the stone rain, blinking angrily, trying to see through the dust.

The tunnel ran past him in a blur, his lack of sight boosted by a missing eye and the general darkness around him. He caught glimpses of blue rock; he heard running water in the background. Then something made him froze.

A huge arch, like those found in front of temples but much larger, ran across the vast cavern within the cave. Twisted, misshapen rock formations curved impossibly around the twin pillars of the arch. It had to be old, he realized, so old that rock could grow around it. But it was tough, made of a kind of stone he had never seen before. It was a black that shone in the dark.

The reason for the unnatural shine was obvious however. Beyond the arch, further into the tunnel, he could see a white glow, like someone had decided to bring the sun into the tunnel. Instinctively, he knew exactly what that was, and that it was nowhere as cheerful as the sun.

Hesitantly, Saitou drew his sword and walked forward. The light grew stronger and stronger, and Saitou realized it wasn't a steady beam of light. It flickered, it pulsed and it jumped… like the air around the undead. He broke into an all out run, blood tingling with excitement. His prey was at hand. Be it man, beast or god, evil was evil, and he would deliver justice. He thundered around a bend.

And that was when the roaring started.

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His katana clattered to the floor as he threw his hands up, futilely trying to block out the thunderous roar. His hands barely even muffled the terrible sound that was thundering, pulsing deep with his skull. Growling, at the back of his throat, he charged forward, feeling his heart start to race. It wasn't excitement that drove him, not any more. It was terror, a sheer, utter terror, like none he had ever felt in his entire life.

He wanted it to end. He wanted it to end. He wanted it to end. He wanted it to end.

"You!" he roared.

He was so going to kill this thing. God, he was so going to kill this thing.

"Sto…"

Saitou skidded to a stop, still clutching his ears. He stared in disbelief, blood dripping down his ruined eye, the furious bright light turning his face white.

Within a dark hole… bright… lurid… glaring… _blinding_… huge in its monstrosity, enormous… like it would swallow the world. Limbs… limbs extending out, probing, exploring, _feeling_… like a child, a mere child… but so _bright_… so terrible… a horror like none the world had ever seen…

Saitou felt his jaw drop. What was this monster? What was it? How could any living thing look like this? It was huge, monstrous beyond imagination, reaching out towards…

"Soujirou!" he screamed.

The boy was kneeling before the monster, his head bowed, as its limbs touched him. Everywhere the monster touched, his flesh loosened and sagged, and sometimes even dropped off. The white robes he was wearing were being stained an odd, pinkish colour.

"Soujirou!" Saitou shouted again, pushing forward, trying to make himself heard over the roar of the monster. "Soujirou!" He stumbled violently. The ground was starting to shake, falling, breaking apart.

The monster was rising.

"Seta Soujirou!" Saitou screamed over the wail of earth and wind. "Soujirou!"

The boy was now kneeling upright, his back straight, staring up at his master. It was out of the hole, roaring, screaming in triumph.

Saitou reached for his katana, but it was not there. Screaming curses, he charged forward, ignoring the pebbles that cut deep into his skin, drawing blood. The boy was so far away! How could he…? His ankle twisted under him, and he fell heavily. He felt rather then heard the sharp crack of bone breaking as he sat down heavily on it. He couldn't move. With his ankle broken, he wouldn't be able to move, wouldn't be able to perform Gatotsu, wouldn't… A mad terror seized him and he almost froze. However, before it could overwhelm him, he felt it being forced back by sheer, white hot fury at the thought of dying within this corpse infested hole.

Roaring, he charged forward, ignoring the feeling of bone tearing through flesh, ignoring the terrible, destabilizing pain that tore through his leg. He would be damn if this monster took over the world! They of the Shinsengumi… screw the Shinsengumi! He was not going to let this thing make zombies out of his wife, his children… his nemesis even. It wasn't worthy enough! He would stop it!

It was floating above him, shaking the whole foundation of the cavern with its sheer presence.

"Soujirou!"

Like magic, the white-clad shoulder was suddenly in front of him. Stumbling, falling over, Saitou's arms shot forward and wrapped around the boy. "On your feet!" he screamed. "Hurry! We have to get out of here!"

The boy didn't react, continuing to kneel there, his eyes fixed on the monster.

"Sou…" Saitou jerked back when he felt soft, rotting flesh beneath the boy's clothes. The monster's limbs were still wrapped around him, still wrapped…

Saitou drew back his arm and delivered a shocking punch to one of the limbs then watched in disbelief as the flesh from his knuckle slipped off his bones like a piece of silk. Then the pain hit and he doubled over, screaming into the shrieking wind and ground.

A sword. Shishio's sword.

His hands shot forward again and he drew the sword from Soujirou's belt. Screaming, still screaming, he attacked the limbs wildly, hacking at it violently, unseeingly.

A limb swept down and plucked the sword out of his hands.

Then it was in front of him and he was looking directly into the white light. His eyes widened, seeing blankly past the white light, seeing what it wanted him to see. Slowly, his hands rose to his head. He touched his temple… then his forehead.

A wordless scream of horror erupted from him, and he stumbled backwards, arms wheeling. Spinning around, he found himself looking into an immeasurable depth of darkness, a dark cavern that seemed to plunge forever into nothingness.

He would have jumped, he knew. He really would have jumped, if a hand hadn't shot out and grabbed onto the back of his jacket, pulling him back even as he started to topple over the edge and into the darkness.

"Saitou!"

Saitou turned around again, struggling out of the hand that clutched to his jacket. It seemed to take hours for his terror-crazed mind to register what he was looking at… who he was looking at. "B… Battousai?"

Kenshin stood before him, his back to the monster just a few feet from him, red hair flaming in the glaring light. "We have to get Soujirou out of here!" he screamed over the roar of the monster.

"Don't…" Saitou spluttered. "Don't look at that thing! Whatever you do, don't look!"

The monster roared. Its limbs shot out again, reaching for Kenshin.

"Dodge!" Saitou roared, and together, they jumped, flying as far as they could.

Rolling, they scrambled to their feet. "We have to get out of here!" Kenshin yelled. "We can't fight it! We have to run!"

"Soujirou…"

Kenshin spun around again. "Soujirou!" he screamed. "Soujirou! What's wrong with you?" He started back but Saitou grabbed onto his shoulder.

"He's taken! We have to go!"

"No!" Kenshin shoved Saitou away, just as another huge tremor ran through the cavern.

Both men tumbled to the ground and lay there, clutching the shaking earth desperately as huge cracks erupted and spread. The monster roared, rising higher and higher, a humongous monstrosity of light and pain.

"Soujirou!" Kenshin howled. "Soujirou!"

The boy was looking at them.

Both men stared back at him as he stood in front of the monster, blue eyes vacant and blank but fixed on them. Black locks whipped around his face, turned into sharp little razors by the cutting wind.

"Soujirou! Come here!"

Behind, the monster thundered closer.

"Soujirou!"

The boy blinked. Then his hand reached into his kimono and traced the scar that ran from his shoulder to his waist. "Himura-san," he said suddenly, softly, but somehow audible over the chaos. "Himura-san." His voice broke. "Oh, Himura-san." Tears suddenly streamed down from the glittering blue orbs. "Save me," he whispered.

Then he was engulfed in the white light.

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Soujirou covered his ears and wailed, clutching his ear-lobs until he felt that they may drop off. Around him, the wind howled, whipping into the white robes, tearing the fabric and cutting through his skin. He couldn't see anything but a white, throbbing light, swirling around him. "Himura-san!" he screamed. "Saitou-san!"

_"They will help you no longer."_

"No!" Soujirou squatted down, curling up protectively. "Go away!"

_"It is over, boy!" _The voice changed… it sounded like Shishio.

"No!" Soujirou moaned. "No!"

_"You will listen to me!" _Yumi's voice.

"No! No! Himura-san! Save me! Saitou-san… Saitou-san…" Soujirou threw back his head and screamed, "Okita-san!"

Warm arms wrapped around him.

Startled, Soujirou lifted his head, and found himself staring into the most beautiful black eyes he had ever seen, eyes that were boring right into him, drilling into him, into his soul.

"What are you afraid of?"

"I… I can't… I can't…"

"Fight it. You can fight it."

"I can't…" Soujirou sobbed, clutching to the warm figure. "I can't! My sword can't be drawn!"

"Yes it can."

"No, it can't! You don't understand…"

"Yes it can."

Soujirou stared into the steady gaze, tears dripping down the side of his face. "But…" he whispered.

"Don't worry. I am here." The eyes glowed with a sort of black light, pulsating, vibrant, real. "Try it. If it is your will, draw."

Soujirou's hand reached towards the handle of his sword.

"It is your sword to draw or not."

His hand touched the handle loosely.

"You are its master, and only you can command it."

Slowly, he ran his hand down to its customary position.

"Fight."

His grip tightened.

"If you will die…"

"Then I will die like a warrior!" Soujirou howled and pulled at the sword as hard as he could. The sword slid out smoothly, gleaming wickedly like a smile in the light that whirled around them.

Screaming, Soujirou shot forward. The warm arms have vanished, the black eyes were gone, but he didn't need them anymore. He knew exactly what he had to do.

Out of the light, he sprinted, running as fast as he could for the walls of the cavern. Without breaking a pause, he sped up the walls. Twisting, turning, he leapt from rock to rock, jumping higher and higher. He was flying, leaping up into the air, reaching the monster, rising like an angel of destruction.

He had never felt so exhilarated, so free before.

With one final leap, he thrust himself off the rock and shot towards the bright monstrosity that hovered near the ceiling of the cavern. For a moment, he was suspended in mid-air, the sleeves of the white haori spreading out, fluttering, as he soared towards the monster. He looked down, and saw Kenshin staring up at him, his mouth wide open. His amethyst eyes glowed in the light, and Soujirou saw rather than heard him shout his name.

Then he was on it.

Screaming a wordless battle-cry, he drove his sword down again and again and again, all the time grinning broadly with true enjoyment.

The monster howled, rearing back, roaring in agony. It bucked and flew about, crashing into the walls of the cavern. Huge chunks of rock hurtled down, breaking up the cracked ground even further. The whole cavern was collapsing, but Soujirou didn't stop. On and on, his sword continued to pierce the monster, a blow for each person who had suffered under this monster.

It roared and tossed upwards suddenly. Soujirou almost lost his footing, saving himself only by driving his sword deep into the monster and clinging on. A thick, rancid smell rose from the wounds but Soujirou ignored it, climbing back to his feet, his eyes flashing like sapphires in the sun. He laughed in excitement as he charged upwards, dragging a huge slit in the monster with his katana. A sour smell rose from the wound, but Soujirou sped on, dragging his katana forward, forward, forward, momentum doing half the job for him.

Turning an abrupt left, Soujirou continued dragging the terrible wound through the monster, his katana glowing in the light as it did its duty.

_"Kill me!" _

_"No! You will not touch me!" _

_"Destroy me!" _

_"My time is not up yet!" _

_"Send me into darkness!" _

_"I shall shine forever!" _

"Yes, I will," Soujirou whispered, drawing his katana fluidly up into the air. "I will destroy you." He stared down, deep into the monster, waiting patiently for it to reveal what it wanted to.

Then he saw it, a little ball of light within the monster that had not been there before. It pulsed rapidly, in terror, in recognition of what it had done to itself.

"Thank you," Soujirou murmured. "I shall end your pain now." And then he dived, shooting through the monster, for a moment, becoming one with his katana. Just as his katana pierced through the heart of the monster, he whispered a quick thanks to the one who had given the monster its weakness.

Then the monster was falling, still howling and roaring as it fell, but it was no longer a cry of triumph, it was a death-cry. Soujirou smiled widely, truly, for the first time in his life. Yet again, the tears came as he fell with the monster, but these were tears of joy, joy and relief. He didn't bother to wipe away this tears, he bore them with pride, they a badge of his freedom.

As they reached ground level, Soujirou lifted his head and looked at the world once again. As bleak as this tunnel was, it was still the real world… and of course there were those two. Kenshin and Saitou had scrambled onto solid ground and were now staring at him, mingled expressions of shock, agonized disbelief and respect.

"Soujirou!" Kenshin shouted. "Jump! Jump this way!"

Soujirou smiled at him and shook his head. No longer did he wish for a smile that hid his feelings. He wanted this smile to reassure Kenshin, to let him know that this was alright. This was where he would finally rest. He thought of opening his mouth, of shouting at Kenshin to go home, that it was all over, but he doubted that he could be heard over the monster's death-cry. Then the ground vanished and he was falling, falling into the bottomless darkness.

As he fell, he felt the cool air sweeping past him, felt the odd sensation of free-fall, felt his katana still clutched tightly in his hand – and he smiled serenely.

It was finally all over.

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"I don't… believe it!" Kenshin shouted, punching the ground in mindless grief, as tears spilled down his face. "How…? How could this…" He broke off into a choked sob, and pressed his forehead to the cool ground.

Saitou watched his nemesis vent his grief onto the blue stone then stoically lit up a cigarette. "He would have died anyway," he said quietly. "It was better this way. Let him have the death he yearns – a warrior's death."

"It… isn't… fair…" Kenshin grounded out.

"No," Saitou murmured, thinking of the blood-stained whips, the burning fortress on Mount Hiei and the falling figure smiling at them before it vanished into the darkness. "No, it isn't."

Slowly, agonizingly, Kenshin lifted himself off the ground and wiped his tears off on his shoulder. His chin trembled for a moment but he steadied it. "We should get back," he mumbled. "Kaoru… Yahiko… they will worry…" He lifted his head high, a symbol of his dignity, but he looked like he had aged decades in those few hours.

"We have to make sure the undead that were on their way to town didn't cause too much damage," Saitou agreed.

Quietly, they advanced forward. It had seemed to take forever to reach the monster, but the journey out had been so… quick. It felt like mere minutes before they had reached the open air, where the cool breeze swept the smell of death and decay away.

"A funeral…" Kenshin said suddenly. "For Soujirou. We… we have to. It's only right…" He paused. "When he was… fighting… he looked… free… he looked… happy…"

"He was," Saitou replied. "He was."

"We must put him to rest… a funeral for him…"

"And for Okita," Saitou said quietly. "He was… killed by Soujirou. I do not know if Soujirou had been in his right mind then, but if he hadn't… yet he had still killed Okita… it means… I have wronged my friend."

Kenshin was quiet then he nodded. "For both of them," he said softly. "The two Soujirous."

"You knew?"

"Yes."

The rest of the journey was made in peace and silence.

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"Good morning, sir!"

"Good morning, sir!"

The two police guards did not look surprise as the police chief swept past them without an acknowledgement. They were used to being ignored by Goro Fugita. What they were not used to were the bandages that were wrapped around their chief's head. They had never seen the man injured before. But, they knew better than to ask questions. You just don't go probing into your superior's affairs and hope to escape unscathed.

Leaving the two useless bums behind him, Saitou slunk into his office and shut the door, wedging it shut. Sitting at the table, he allowed himself a moment of weakness, and slouched onto the table, cupping his face delicately with his hands.

He couldn't believe he was back at the office again, just another ordinary day. It seemed so surreal after what had happened the day before… hell, just ten hours before.

When him and Battousai had arrived at the Kamiya dojo, that stupid red-head had almost freaked at the sight of dozens of lifeless bodies lying about on his front yard. A quick inspection of the house had proved that the Kamiya dojo occupants were safe, having had the sense to hide in the bathrooms out back.

After having their wounds wrapped up by the skillful female kitsune there, Saitou had left his nemesis to the luxury of sleep and had left for his office to order some men about before going home. Well… attempting to, at least. He had ended up collapsing at the doorway of his home, scaring the wits out of poor Tokio and his younger son.

Okita had been right; Tokio hadn't been very pleased with his missing eye. His eldest son had inquired anxiously if his father was going to be alright, if his father was going to die. His younger son made a comment about how cool his father would look with an eye-patch then had cringed, expecting a blow to the ears. All Saitou had done was to pick up the boy, prop him on his uninjured lap and tell him solemnly that the boy would be given the important mission of finding an eye-patch that was cool enough for the chief of police. Tokio had looked at him strangely but merely smiled and nodded when the younger boy had asked eagerly if he really could choose his father's eye-patch.

That didn't mean he was going soft though. He wanted his children to have at least some happy memories with their father… a luxury some people never got. Darn! What he meant was, the whole world was one big bully anyway, so what was the use of being a bully to your own family when there were others out there who were more than willing to do that job for you?

Groaning, Saitou straightened his back and told himself to stop thinking and actually do some work. He took a deep breath to calm the pain that was threatening to overrun his mind. A missing eye and a broken ankle really weren't wounds to be laughed at. Tokio had practically threatened to tie him up and lock him in the closet if he tried to go to work. Even though he had brushed her aside, he knew she was right; there was no way he was going to be able to put his all into work today, but that did not mean he wasn't going to work at all. He just needed a little time to rest… A knock on the door left him with absolutely no choice in that matter.

"Come in," he growled.

His secretary came in, a folder in his hands. "We have a report from the Sixth Division, Goro-san," he reported, sliding the folder onto Saitou's desk.

Giving a noncommittal grunt, Saitou flipped the folder open and dragged out the messy report. Dead bodies had been found littered all over town… the government was going to issue an announcement later the day that this had been the prank of some crazed Bakufu supporter… nothing he didn't expect. He sat up straighter as he read on. A body had been found floating down one of the water canals. It had been identified as Usui, ex-Juppongatana. An underlined postscript marked that the division had made sure this one was truly, truly dead. Saitou sighed and closed the folder. Thank god for sensible men.

"That's it," he said. "Tell the men that they have done well, and that such excellent work will be noted during the next round of promotions."

"Sir?"

"What?"

"Well… you…"

"What?"

"Um… nothing…" the secretary backed out of the room and closed the door, but not before shooting Saitou a suspicious look, like he feared the bandages were a sign of some terrible head trauma that was severely affecting his boss's sanity.

Saitou sank back into his seat. Well, it wasn't like he would be lying. They had been rather sensible men, and they had dealt with all this supernatural nonsense in a very down-to-earth, business-like manner which had impressed him. Obviously such men deserve a promotion of sorts, or at least a pay increase, which was least likely to happen than a promotion actually.

Honestly, he was curious how long his generous mood was going to last.

His door burst open as a junior officer came tearing into the room. "Goro-san! Goro-san!" he shrieked excitedly. "I have great news! Really great news!"

"Keep it down, you moron," Saitou snapped. Okay, apparently not very long. "What is it?"

"It's Okita Souji's grave," the junior officer reported. "His body has been returned!"

"What?"

The junior officer grinned at Satiou's astounded look. "Yes sir," he said cheerfully. "His sister, Mitsu-dono discovered it, sir. She went to his grave and found that someone had lay Okita Souji's body beside his grave, arranged all neatly and stuff, with his sword by his side. Though the body was in terrible shape mind you. It looks like it had been burnt and there were all this slash marks. Seems someone had their fun with it… meaning no disrespect to the dead, sir. It sure got the lady fired up though. Mitsu-dono was very… eh… firm about insisting that you personally find the person who desecrated her brother's grave, Goro-san. She said something about eh… what was it? Gatotsu them to hell was it?"

Saitou grunted again, staring at his table. Well, Okita's body had returned. That was great, but who had did it? Who could have returned to the tunnels to look for Okita's body? Battousai? But he couldn't have known exactly which tunnel Okita was in. Frowning, he pressed his fingertips together and dismissed the happily grinning policeman.

Well, whatever the case, Okita had been returned to his final resting place. Whoever had done it had obviously treated Okita with respect; that was all he needed to know. He didn't need to catch that person then. He only arrested people to punish them, not to thank them.

A scream.

Instantly, Saitou was on his feet, his spare katana clutched in his hands. Adrenaline pulsed through his body, forcing the fatigue and the pain to the back of his mind.

Striding forward purposefully, ignoring the wretched pain in his ankle, he yanked open his door and headed for the source of the commotion, the coroner's room.

"What is it? What's going on?" he snapped, stepping into the coroner's doorway, ready to Gatotsu the nearest threat with all the efficiency of the Chief of Police.

An officer stumbled past him before throwing up in a corner.

"Well?" he shouted.

A crowd started to gather and he glared at them impatiently, tapping his good foot against the floor.

"Inside…" the officer who had thrown up gasped, pointing with one finger. "The… water tank…"

Scowling, Saitou stalked into the room and approached the water tank, briefly aware that he was invading the coroner's privacy. Where was the coroner anyway? Wasn't he supposed to be here?

He found his answer when he looked into the water tank.

The coroner was floating facedown in the water tank, his blood turning the water an opaque red. As Saitou stared, a pair of eyeballs floated past, lolling helplessly in the water. Saitou swallowed dryly and started to back off.

Something beneath the water surface caught his attention.

Saitou hesitated then leaned nearer the surface of the water. At first, he couldn't see much with the rippling of the water surface. Gritting his teeth, he leaned closer until his nose was almost touching the water. There was some dark, indistinct shape beneath all the red. He adjusted his head again, trying to get a fix on something that would tell him what he was looking at. Then suddenly, he realized what he was looking at.

The half-formed shape of Kamatari's face and torso.

Drawing a deep breath, Saitou backed off again. The eyes were staring up at him, a maniacal grin plastered on the dead face. Dark hair floated like worms, the only sign of life beneath the bloody water.

Hands trembling, Saitou lit up a cigarette and stepped towards the doorway of the coroner's office. "You," he croaked (albeit, rather stoically). "You and you. Get in there and clean out the water tank. There are two bodies in there. Take the coroner's body out and get some family down here to take care of it. The other one… take it out and burn it."

"Burn it? But sir, surely that body is evidence…"

"Burn it!" Saitou snapped. "Erase all trace of it, do you understand? And if you feel bad about it, go down to the nearest temple and get some priest to do whatever rites or blessings over it."

"Yes sir."

"In fact… even if you don't feel bad about it, go grab the priest."

"Okay, sir."

"We got some pretty superstitious people here after all."

"Yes sir."

"Don't want to keep the morale down…"

"Absolutely, sir."

He walked down the corridor, his limp now obvious. Home. He was heading home… he didn't have the strength to maintain the facade of calmness any longer. Never before had he ever taken leave for anything before, but right now, there was a huge hole in his face and his ankle was broken. If that didn't warrant a day off, he didn't know what would. Besides, if his superiors had a problem with him, he would just Gatotsu them. Not very good for the résumé, but currently he did not have the patience to deal with any bureaucratic bullshit.

He was going to go home and teach his son the proper way to use the katana. He was going to eat his wife's home-cooked soba and then probably make another baby. That was exactly what life was all about; learning to survive, surviving, eating and reproducing. Everything else was just there to keep all the many high-strung humans from going crazy with boredom. After all, there were only so many babies you can make before impotency strikes. Then you need something extra to do.

For him, that extra thing was eliminating evil, even if he hadn't struck impotency yet.

Right now, his mind was clear and he was focused on exactly what he needed to do. Eliminating evil could wait; he was going to make the new baby girl Tokio so badly wanted. If all his dead Shinsengumi friends had a problem with him abandoning his duty of Aku Soku Zan, well screw them. They were already dead; they didn't need to eat or make any more babies. He was still alive, and he was going to do exactly those, and he was going to enjoy it. After all, life was only so long, and he was glad to be alive.

Truly, truly glad.

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"Then I'm off, Kenshin!" Kaoru called cheerfully, slinging Kenji on her back with a sling.

"Ok," Kenshin acknowledged, smiling. "Tell the doctor to be gentle with Kenji; you know how he cries when he's frightened."

"I'm sure the doctor remembers," Kaoru replied, laughing. "Well then! Bye!"

"See you later."

As soon as his wife and child had disappeared out of the doorway, Kenshin's smile dropped and he sat down heavily on the stairs to the dojo. How odd that things should be back to normal so soon after such a terrible tragedy had happened! He discovered he had really underestimated the ability of his family to rebound from tragedy. Just a mere ten hours after they had almost been torn to pieces by raging zombies, they had resumed their normal daily schedule, with Yahiko heading out to give kendo lessons, and Kaoru taking Kenji to visit the doctor. Only him… he was the only one who was still affected by what happened just the night before.

Burying his head into his hands, Kenshin sighed deeply. Poor Soujirou! He had known all along that either way, Soujirou would have died in the end, but to see him going down like that… it tore at his heart even though he knew it shouldn't. Either way, the only thing he could do for the boy now was to arrange a decent funeral for him. If possible, he had wanted some of Soujirou's family to be present, but when he had asked Saitou for such information, Saitou had told him to forget that. He wondered why.

_"Himura-san. Oh, Himura-san. Save me." _

Kenshin rubbed his face with his palms. Those words would haunt him forever, he knew. Twice! Twice, Soujirou had asked for him to save him! Twice, he had failed him!

"Kenshin? Are you okay?"

Snapping out of thought, Kenshin dropped his hands and snapped on a smile. "Ah… Megumi-dono! Yes, I am fine!" He climbed onto his feet and grinned stupidly.

Megumi smiled at him, but worry tinged her eyes. "I see," she said.

"Yes," Kenshin confirmed, aware that his tongue was running away with itself. "I am just off to do the laundry. The sun is out today, which makes it perfect for laundry-day, that it does."

"You must be kidding me!" Megumi snapped, her good-nature fading behind the concern that leapt onto her face. "Kenshin, please look at all the bandages covering you! You should be in bed! Besides, your ankle is broken, isn't it? I know I have already set it, but that doesn't mean you can go running around as you please! Leave the laundry to me! I demand you go straight back to bed now!"

"Ah… well now, Megumi-dono… you are a guest…"

"Now!"

"Yes ma'am!"

Chuckling helplessly, Kenshin wandered off, leaving Megumi to the laundry. Yes, of course, his ankle was broken. It had snapped when that monster had grabbed him in the dark, just before he had struggled free and ran, blood streaming down his face. The bone had indeed been broken cleanly; Megumi had told him that last night. Before she did, he hadn't even been aware that it was broken.

He didn't know how to tell Megumi that he couldn't feel any pain at all.

It wasn't like his leg was totally numb. When he pinched it, he could feel the pain, but he couldn't feel any pain from the broken ankle. Most disturbingly, when the bone had accidentally snapped apart again, he had been able to push it back into position without feeling any pain.

Much like Soujirou had done with his neck.

Almost hysterical from exhaustion and panic, he had pulled out his katana and cut his finger on the sharp edge. The sight of a single drop of blood sliding down his finger had filled him with immense relief. That was helped by the fact that he had been more than willing to devour the simple meal Megumi had prepared for him last night.

Still, that did not explain his sudden immunity to pain from broken bones. He did not think he was one of the undead; after all, that monster had been destroyed by Soujirou. Yet, somehow…

A sudden chill ran through his body.

What if the monster hadn't died?

What if it was still alive?

What if… he was already a slave?

What if one night he would wake up in the middle of the night and slaughter his…?

"Enough," he muttered, trying to rub away the goose-bumps that now littered his arms. He had made it back alive. The monster was dead; all the lifeless bodies discovered in town confirmed that. If the monster hadn't died, those zombies would still be walking around. Grief and fatigue were taking a toll on his imagination. Megumi was right; he needed to rest and regain his strength.

Slowly, he slid the door to his bedroom open and stepped in. He would sleep now, he decided, and when Kaoru came home, he would greet her with a feast grand enough to rival the king's. For that, he would need to rest.

Smiling to himself, he shut the door.

Rest; we need it all the time, so much so that in the end, it is all we ever do.

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**Epilogue **

The hooded figure glided out of the shadows gracefully as the women left the grave, one talking angrily at the top of her voice while the rest patted her and tried to calm her down. His eyes glittered under the shadow of the hood as he watched the angry woman shout furiously about vandals and disrespectful teenagers while an elder woman put an arm around her and tried to pull her off the middle of the road. She was a truly beautiful woman, with long black hair and flashing blue eyes. There was the same bone structure of the face as her brother, and the same nose shape. It was an odd twist of fate however, that her brother was prettier than she was. Or perhaps, it was age that had dampened her beauty; maybe when she was younger, she had been as pretty as her brother… as pretty as him.

The group of women turned the corner of the mud road, and he heard the woman's voice break suddenly into sobs. It was thirteen years; will the pain ever end? He wondered if anyone had cried when he had died, if anyone would rejoice if they knew he had returned.

Quietly, he stepped in front of the grave. The women had, together, buried the body, sobbing promises to return with a priest to placate his angry soul. Somehow, he did not think the dead man's soul needed much placating. He had probably died amused rather than angry; amused by all the puzzles he had left behind for the living to solve.

The living were the ones who were furious with the dead, or for himself, furious and grateful.

Too many times, Okita Souji had saved him; from falling, from fear… from death.

The figure raised his hands and pushed the hood back, revealing ebony hair and gleaming blue eyes.

He had so many questions. What had been the monstrous being that had been within the caves? Was it really a god? Was it a demon? Was it even something that could be named? Even though he had been with it… been a part of it for a while, he had failed to glimpse anything from it. Okita Souji knew, he suspected. Perhaps not at first, but later, he had known. Okita Souji had, at the last part of his un-life, become _part_ of the monster. He must have saw something just before he crossed the threshold. He must have seen past time, past space, into the beginning when the monster had first come to being.

That was how the monster could have been destroyed. By itself, it was immortal, indestructible. But when Okita's soul merged with it, had entered it, it had absorbed the man's vulnerabilities, had become human. Okita Souji had _become_ the monster, had overrun its immortality, and rendered it useless – had driven it to its death by giving it the one thing that it had lacked – a heart.

All this he knew, in the brief moment when he had been a part of the monster, a part of Okita Souji. What he didn't know, he had guessed.

A soft breeze stirred, gently brushing through his mass of black hair. He brushed them away, blinking away the specks of dust that got into his eyes. A tear ran from his eye to the side of his lip. He licked it. It was warm and salty.

Yet, there were still things he had never figured out. Like why Okita Souji had killed him in the first place. He had said it was very hard to explain, he had said he would tell him when they met in hell… he had said a lot of things but never the answer. Okita was good that way, always going in circles. Yet, he had suspected that Okita had always been telling him the answer, had never hidden anything, just… never saying it directly. He would never have guessed if he hadn't met that woman though.

Talent runs in the family; but so does personality. Personality was what affected how much the monster controls you. Only those who saw value in death would have been free of the monster. Had Okita seen… a shade of himself in him? Had Okita… guessed at his heritage? He himself was guessing at his heritage. He had never known his mother, had always been told his mother was a whore his father had slept with one night, but supposing… supposing… it hadn't been a whore. What if it had been a young woman, struggling to find enough money to take care for her younger brother dying of tuberculosis… meeting a rich rice merchant… already married, but still young, still virile. Then the rice merchant had died, and she had been exiled… but they had kept her son because he was their own flesh and blood. Supposing…

He shook his head and laughed weakly. Honestly, he would never know the answers to that particular question. The one person he would have dared ask was six feet under, nothing more than a mere shell. The real Okita was now buried under tons of blue mountain rock, dead, perhaps having left for a better world, a world that he deserved.

Then there was a question of why he was still here. He should have been buried with Okita, buried with that monster, buried under those tons of blue mountain rock as well. Yet here he was now, standing before the grave of his saviour, head bowed, pondering over the mysteries the fallen captain had left behind.

Perhaps… perhaps he had been different somehow, like Okita had been different. Maybe something inherent in him, in his destiny had saved him. Or perhaps… it was the monster that had brought him back. As they had fell, he had felt Okita's presence within the monster growing, expanding, overwhelming the creature from within. At the very last moment… it was almost like it was Okita that was falling beneath him, and not the monster. Perhaps, as the monster had absorbed Okita's vulnerabilities, Okita had absorbed the monster's powers. Perhaps the monster had the power to bestow an unnatural life, but as Okita… the life it had bestowed had become… real. Perhaps, in the end, it was the very monster he had destroyed that had given him back his life.

He laughed again, this time, a little wildly, and ran a hand through his hair resignedly. This was the question he would never find the answer for, he knew. The others… Usui and Kamatari… had remained dead after the monster died. Was it because their allegiance had been to that monster, while his allegiance had been to his own monster? He would never know, and perhaps that was for the best. There were forces out there to be reckoned with, he now knew, forces that were beyond the control of mere humans. Sometimes, it was better if such forces and humans never crossed paths. From such meetings, only disaster could occur.

Gently, his hand brushed his left wrist. It was still sore, and ached when it was cold, a dull reminder of the events that had happened. But beneath the pain… he pressed his fingers against the inside of his wrist. The steady beat of his pulse greeted the touch. He gave his lower lip a gentle nibble and tasted salty, metallic blood in his mouth. He was alive, truly alive, not a living zombie, but a living _human_.

True tears ran down his face as he gave a low bow to the grave before him. Okita Souji had given him a second chance in life, a chance to discover for himself what he truly believed, what he truly wanted to live for. For that, he would be forever grateful.

Seta Soujirou straightened up and lifted the hood over his head. "Goodbye," he murmured softly. "I'll be back next year, if I don't die before then that is… but I think… even if I do die… if you want be back, you will have me back now, wouldn't you, Master?"

Then he turned his back on the grave and stared ponderingly at the mud path under his feet. He knew that Kenshin and Saitou thought he was dead, and he knew that it must be hurting them to think that he had sacrificed himself for them. Yet… he did not want to tell them he had survived, not now at least. To tell them would mean tying himself to them, would mean having to account himself to them. That would be nice one day, to have people who cared enough to want to know what you were doing. But now… _now_ what Seta Soujirou needed was not a family to stay in, but the freedom to find out what he wanted, what he needed.

Thus it was that he set out on the mud path, his back straight, a figure with the world at his feet and everything to live for.

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A/N: For all of you who found this part a little confusing, you can mail me and ask me questions. It should all be made clear in Soujirou's thoughts before Okita's grave. However, I've just like to point out that Soujirou's explanations are the way he perceived what happened; the reader can come up with opinions of their own, especially in regards to why Okita did the things he did. If you have any ideas, please feel free to mail me as well! I would love to hear from you guys!

I would also like to point out also, that I hoped I didn't screw up the fight between our boys and the monster. In my opinion, describing the monster would just ruin everything, so I tried to give Saitou's point of view in fragments, and leave the rest up to the readers' imaginations. I'm not sure how that turned out, so of course, you can tell me in your reviews.

Honestly though, this was a really fun but really difficult story to write. I tend to lean more towards humour, but I really, really wanted to try writing a horror story, especially one with a supernatural twist. I'll probably try it again and again, until I get sick of writing this genre. As if that would ever happen! It's just like a roller-coaster ride; it's scary, terrifying, not good for heart problems and asthma, but you just keep doing it again and again because there's a thrill in it. That's how I feel about this story. It was one good roller-coaster ride, and I would really love to get into the front seat again and again.

Ah well, enough about my thoughts! It's time to leave yours! Please leave a review and tell me how you felt about the story! Thanks a lot for joining me on this journey, and I hope you guys get to hear more from me soon!


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